#i'm sleep deprived as all hell right now

[thethingything]

I'm not even sure what's going on with our sleep schedule at this point but I think I've just accepted that it's fucked and there's gonna be a bunch of stuff over the next few weeks that's gonna keep fucking it up which is gonna be a nightmare but I can't exactly do much about it.

RIP to our emotional regulation and basically anything else that requires you to have slept at the right time for your body, not that were doing great with any of that stuff anyway

[lymtw]

It's three in the morning and the sound of your phone vibrating against the bed wakes you from your peaceful slumber. You lazily reach for the blinding light next to you, instantly knowing who's on the other end when you see the blue diamond emoji.

"Hello..."

You were very much asleep, the raspiness in your voice making it that much more evident.

"Hey, sorry to wake you. Are you okay to talk for a bit?"

Satoru sounds like he's wide awake.

"Don't worry about it. What's up?"

You roll onto your side, your phone between your ear and your pillow. If you close your eyes for more than three seconds, you'll fall asleep again.

There's a slight pause between your response and his. Maybe the signal is bad or he didn't hear you.

"Is everything alright, Satoru?"

"I can't sleep."

He responds quickly this time. His tone didn't change. He didn't sound like he was in distress or too worried about the fact.

"Oh. Uh... have you tried drinking some chamomile tea? I personally don't like it, but when I need to rest, I suck it up and force myself to drink a cup."

He chuckles on the line. You always do what is best for you, even if it's not something you particularly enjoy.

"I think i'm just missing you a lot. Can I come over?"

It was strange to think he hadn't tried a tea remedy for his inability to sleep, but who were you to tell him that? Sleep deprivation does things to people.

"Right now? It's a little late, don't you think?"

You blink slowly, trying to adjust your blurry vision in the dark.

"I promise I won't fall asleep behind the wheel. I really want to see you. Please say yes."

You shut your eyes tightly and open them, your vision clearing up a little. When have you ever said 'no' to him? He always manages to change your mind when you do.

You sigh.

"Okay. You have the spare key to my apartment. I'm going back to sleep."

"I'll be there in like fifteen minutes. Love you, bye!"

You can hear the joy in his tone. He was genuinely so uncomfortable being alone with himself, that he had to wake you up so late at night to invade your space.

–

You knocked out again, once you hung up the phone. You were in such deep sleep that you didn't even notice when Satoru got to your apartment, or when he entered your room.

You did feel the bed weigh down when he laid down next to you, and your nose couldn't ignore his sweet, sweet scent.

"Baby," he whispered. "I'm here."

"Okay, now go to sleep," you mumble, your eyes still closed.

"Come here." He effortlessly turns you over and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip. His hand went up to your face, caressing your delicate, peaceful features before scattering kisses all over it, making sure to elongate the duration of the ones he leaves on your lips.

"Baby," he coos. "Come on, kiss me back."

He's like a dog—constantly begging for your attention. The thought makes you crack a smile, one Satoru does not miss.

"I know you're awake." He smiles, putting your leg back in place, before rolling over until he's on top you.

"Fucking hell, 'toru," you break, cracking up at how he had no remorse after crushing your body.

"There's my pretty baby. I'm so glad you're awake now."

"It's your fault," you grumble.

"If wanting to love you is a crime, then throw me in the slammer and toss the key." His nose dove into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're just so pretty, and you're all mine."

His affection was starting to evolve into more than lovey dovey kisses. His lips stung every time they met your delicate neck. His hands were roaming beneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He loved the way your breathing quickened. It had him chasing more of the reactions associated with the hummed melodies.

"You are mine, right?" He knows the answer, but hearing you say it from time to time always makes him happy. His icy blue eyes can read your response before you even form it. He loves flustering you with eye contact tied with touches that burned with desire. To top it all off, he loves teasing you to see the way you scramble your response. "It's okay if you're not." He smirks, catching the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. "That's subject to change, isn't it?" He eggs on.

"I'm yours, Satoru. I belong to you," you say, making it crystal clear to him. "All yours." With this, he wouldn't doubt it again until the next time he wasn't with you.

"Yeah? You know, I would've done anything to hear those words from you." He leans down to kiss you, a spike of arousal hitting him when you bit his lip and sucked on it.

"Oh... you can't do that. I will put a baby in you." He has never said anything so seriously.

"I dare you to put a baby in me," you say, teasingly. You know he won't do it. He's not ready to share you yet.

"Keep acting like that and I will."

His lips ghost the column of your neck, trailing down your chest and lower to your abdomen. Your oversized gown of a t-shirt was the only thing standing between your body and his eyes. He pulled it up and off with a little help from you, tossing it aside after.

You were a little nervous about what was running through Satoru's head. He was devouring you with just his eyes and already you felt so flustered.

"God, don't ogle me like that, 'toru." You put your hands over your breasts—a makeshift bra to cover what he was staring at.

"Let me see you, baby," he pries, gently. He puts his hands on yours, not pulling them away as to not make you do anything you don't want to do. You end up moving your hands on your own, but turn away, unable to hold his gaze when he's watching you that way.

He cups your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, instantly making them pebble. He could feel the way you tried to press your thighs together, your relief disturbed by his body wedged between your legs. You tried your hardest to remain composed, but his fingers wouldn't let up. His eyes were glued to your face, watching intently until you let out a shaky breath.

"Mhm..." he hummed, grinning at your bashful attempt to stay quiet. "I know this is driving you crazy."

"Shut... up."

"If it isn't, why can I feel you rubbing up against my stomach."

You stop and your cunt throbs at the suddenness of it.

"Just let it out and we can move on. Let me hear that pretty little ah-"

"Fuck," you whimper, interrupting his instructive moan. Your back arches slightly off the mattress, your hands flying to grip his wrists, tightly.

"Good girl," he praises, his fingers letting off your tortured peaks. Little butterfly kisses are placed between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach, where he spends so much time eliciting giggles from you.

His fingers hook around the elastic band of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one swoop.

"I didn't know kissing turned you on so much," he says, eyeing the glossy remnants left in your underwear.

"'toru..." you whine, feeling somewhat embarrassed about the amount of arousal you feel at the simplest touches from him.

"What? I'm not complaining one bit. It's cute."

He slides two fingers between your folds, easily collecting your sweetness. You jolt at the sudden contact, looking at him with doe eyes.

"Oh, baby. I don't deprive you of my touch that much, do I?"

You shake your head as he continues to collect your nectar, his fingers dipping in slightly to fully coat his fingertips.

"My sensitive princess." He smiles, softly. "How many times do you wanna cum?"

He never asks you this, always just giving you everything he can give or what you can take. You go for a small number, not wanting to seem excessively needy.

"Maybe two times? Please?" Your voice sounds meek. Like you're asking him for the impossible.

Satoru just chuckles. "How 'bout we triple that number?"

–

"S-Satoru—fuck— just like that, like that!" Your head pushes back against the pillow, your hands beside your head, scrunching up the sheets.

This was the fourth orgasm. There was cum spotted over your inner thighs and sweat layered over both your bodies. He had driven you to insanity like he planned.

"More, baby?" He grunts, thrusting with his continuous pace.

"Please," you cry out, fresh tears welling in your eyes again.

Satoru loved watching the tears stream down your face because he got to lean down and kiss them away. He takes the opportunity to praise you— to tell you how good you're being for him.

Your back arched and you braced yourself for the intensity of your next orgasm. Satoru swallowed your moans, kissing you fervently through his own rush. His breathing stuttered when he felt your nails clawing at his back, and once again his cum spurted into you. His breathing was heavy through the nose due to his insistence of kissing you until he you patted him for air.

"Fuck," you muttered. You let out an out of breath laugh, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to even out your breathing.

"That's five, baby." He exhales sharply, leaning back and running a hand through his dampened locks. You look at him with twinkling eyes, a smirk being thrown in your direction from your admiration.

"Come here," you say, outstretching your arms towards him. Satoru immediately fills the vacancy, sighing when you rake your nails against the nape of his neck. "Want you to take your time with this last one."

He takes that as a green light to start up again. He guides his cock into you again, savoring the hum that leaves you when he stuffs you again and begins his slow rhythm.

"'toru?" Your voice sounded sultry to his ears.

"Hm?"

"This won't happen again. I hope you know that." You're trying your hardest not laugh or make any sounds that take from the meaning of what you're saying.

He had to raise his head to meet your gaze. Something in the way he looked at you made you believe that this would definitely happen again.

"I hope it does. I love having you under me."

"It's inconvenient. It's so late, 'toru. Why can't we fuck when i'm not trying to sleep? Like in the daytime, or earlier in the night?"

His lips trace your jawline, and you just know he's going for your neck. Satoru lives for pointing out the marks he left on you, the day after.

"Simple," he hums. "I want you to myself." His hips continue to rock into you at the same languid pace. "At night, nobody is gonna take you from me. You won't be distracted and I get all your attention to myself." He kisses your neck. "You're all mine at night. Nobody expects you to be awake."

You gasp when he hits a spot that aches deliciously.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he murmurs into your neck. You can feel the way his back ripples as he instinctively picks up the pace. He was overwhelming, thrusting deeper and deeper like he was trying to consume you. What was supposed to be a slow drive towards your final orgasm of the night, turned into him unapologetically using his stamina to lure everything he could out of you. He was almost too much with the way his mouth was ruthless towards your neck and the bruising grip he kept on your hips. You were rendered the smallest thing for him.

"Satoru," you moaned, mindlessly grabbing onto his shoulder blades.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." He kisses you, tenderly, heavily contrasting the savage speed of thrusts.

You whimpered into the lip lock. Your heels dug into the mattress and your toes curled from the intensity of the pleasure you felt. Your breathing became heavier but Satoru refused to unlink his lips from yours. He couldn't when the sounds you made tasted like heaven on his tongue. His own sounds mingled with yours, a harmony that let you know that you weren't the only one feeling good. He was rutting into you, a telltale sign that he was about to cum.

"Mmm..." he hums, before unlatching his lips from yours. He panted as he watched you unravel beneath him, the smallest pinch between your brows as you gushed on him again. The way your walls spasmed around him had him following right after, another load painting your walls.

He grinned at you devilishly, the expression followed by a bright and sunny, airy chuckle. He pulls out of you, and looks down to watch your combined fluids slowly ooze out of you.

"Damn, you really tried putting a baby in me." You sigh, heavily, immediately regaining his attention. "Why do we fuck like this every time?" You rub your eyes, your sleepiness coming back around.

"I'll get one in there someday." He rubs his palm over your stomach. "And also, it's always like that because I love the face you make when you cum and you love the process of giving me that sight." His eye conveyed a seductiveness to their expression that kept you in check.

Your face goes red, warm to the touch. "Shut up." You sit up and playfully shove him.

"I get to cover you in semipermanent kisses, too." His hand comes up to the side of your neck and his fingers trace the red smudges that will darken over time. You roll your eyes, yet still put your hand over his, bringing it to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"We should shower. It's almost five in the morning." You ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way he's obviously trying to suppress a boyish grin.

"Carry me, please?"

Satoru chuckles, knowing exactly why you want him to carry you.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini I want to fuck a demon boy so bad I can't. I'm so sleep deprived and this is the only thing on my mind. The idea of this powerful demon who's not used to being challenged, just ending up ass up face down on the floor, bed WHEREVER. It's not important. Ending up like that is just peak. Also I like to think they'd have sensitive tails. So. Like. I totally.

Wanna make them fuck themselves with their own tail. I think that'd be great. I think it would be awesome.

I want them to get so flustered at the idea of doing it, but do it anyway just coz I told them to. I can almost imagine them finding their own prostate with their tail, and really they can't decide which sensation to focus on. Feeling themselves clench around their own tail, or the way the slightly pointed end slams into their prostate. And bonus points if they cum and you overstim them by grabbing their tail and fucking them so much harder than they could themselves. Hooray, now they've got

your hand around their already much too sensitive tail

said sensitive tail is being slammed into their ass

it's gotta feel so good, they'd probably be so tight around themselves

your hand is gonna slip a few times, which is gonna end up in stroking their tail, which has got to feel like heaven for them

not to forget that you're thrusting their tails directly onto their prostate without letting them breathe

I just. I don't know. I think they'd look so pretty, flushed and begging to stop, even though it's them that keeps weakly trying to thrust their tail back into themselves. Also, they'd look so pathetic, sobbing from the overstimulation. I'm a sucker for tears trailing down their faces, eyes red and a little puffy. It'd almost make you wanna be nice to them. Almost.

But yknow, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And sometimes what a girl's gotta do is fuck a demon stupid with their own tail. (I don't have the same way with words as some people, but like do you see the vision)

~a sleep deprived,🧁anon

You are so smart holy shit. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Fucking a demon with their own tail? Why didn’t I think of something as great as this??! Lemme write down my thoughts for a sec- (btw I thought you are like, very religious?)

Dom!reader x sub!character

You had a long day behind you, and there was nothing sweeter than the thought of finally getting some sleep. All you wanted was to have a good rest, but to your demise you woke up in the middle of the night with something heavy on top of you. “Ops, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Oh well this will do too.” What the hell? It was a fucking person?? First thing you did was push him off of you and turning on the lights, then you thought this was some kind of weird joke. He had two horns growing out of his forehead, as well as a super long tail with a heart shaped tip. Not to mention the pink, glowing tattoo on his pelvis. When he opened his mouth again, you thought you didn’t hear right. “I’m an incubus, pleasant to meet you~ now let me feast on you, pretty please?”

An incubus, so, in other words a demon. What in the- never mind. He said he wanted to feast on you? Heck no, he woke you up in the middle of the night and is expecting you to have the energy to fuck him? As soon as he got up to try make a move on you, you flipped him over and tangled your hand in his hair, then pressed his face into your pillow. “If you are that desperate do it yourself.” Of course that little slut was into that.

He reached for his dick, but you slapped his hand away and instead grabbed his tail. “MhMngh- aaAAHhnn~!” A surprised yet blissful moan escaped him, face all red as lust fills their already sinful body. Anticipation swelling inside them at the thought of what you might do with them. That’s when they felt their own tail poking against their butt… wait wha? In the mean time you stroked it gently while whispering, “I want to watch you fuck yourself, who knows, I might reward you afterwards.” Suddenly all their previous confidence vanished as embarrassment took over. With their own tail..?? How did you even get that idea! Not even something as perverted as them had such outrageous ideas..!

In the end they could only obey without protesting, trusting their already super sensitive tail into their tight, wet hole. Each time they accidentally hit their prostate, they’d yelp and whimpers. Pretty tears are already rolling down their even prettier faces. Eyes half lidded as they whine, “mhm! Ah-ahhHh.. nghHnn~!!” All while their poor, useless dick is twitching around on its own, making a mess everywhere <3

Gojo, Sukuna, Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, jouno, Scaramouch, Kaeya, lyney, Ayato, Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan (?), Douma - your favourites

[crossingthedreams]

do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most. 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food. 

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks. 

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests. 

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops. 

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him. 

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink. 

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”. 

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh. 

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss. 

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron. 

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing. 

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem. 

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there! 

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that. 

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit. 

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care. 

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her. 

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”. 

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away. 

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning. 

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified. 

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty. 

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.  

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too. 

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual. 

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better. 

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze. 

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it. 

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise. 

You meant nothing to him. 

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born. 

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off. 

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too. 

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in. 

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?” 

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible. 

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face. 

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”. 

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House. 

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left. 

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man. 

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much? 

[dreamerdeity]

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄 ('𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄)

*ೃ𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Il Dottore x Fem. Reader

*ೃ𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.2k

*ೃ𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Sleep deprived, overworked, a report requested by your Lord Harbinger. Just place it on his desk and leave–or take a nap on his luxurious leather couch before you do. What could go wrong? Well, a lot, apparently.

*ೃ𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT!!! Dead dove: do not eat. Somnophilia, non-con like straight up r*pe, subordinate x superior, scary delusional rationalizer-dottore, p in v, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, dottore thinks he's actually a nice guy, dottore is in fact just a creepy guy, dottore acts like a silly (like a psychopath), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! others, please proceed at your own risk!

*ೃ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Hi lovelies! I meant to post this yesterday but had some things to take care of so didn't get around to it. This is a request part of @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event. DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE WARNINGS!! If my shit gets flagged one more time I'm going to kms. anyway, I hope you all enjoy dottore being a literal psychopath. byee :3

KEIRA'S FUNDRAISING EVENT 🍉

You walk through the east wing of the Sumeruan Fatui Research Facility, your eyes heavy and your senses numb from lack of sleep. The only sound that rings through your ears is the faint clicking of your shoes against the rubber flooring. 

The strong scent of antiseptic has always fared excellently in keeping you awake, and you thank the archons for its potent presence in this sterilized hallway as your eyes scan over the various signs plastered on the walls. Il Dottore, Il Dottore, Il Dottore. What turn should you take? What sign bears the arrow to his private laboratory? Frankly, if it were up to you, you would've shoved the responsibility of delivering this report to Lord Dottore onto Mikhael, but he feared the harbinger even more than you did, so here you were, left to take one for the team while sleep deprived, cranky, nervous, and somewhat afraid all at once.

It was a bit of a long walk–marked by frustrated sighs and irritated mutters of disapproval at your own dull sense of direction–to Dottore's personal lab, and you weren't even sure he would be there. He's always been the most eccentric of the harbingers, which is then, relatively, extremely eccentric, and his work hours never conformed to normal people's. You round a corner and turn one last left, before a large fortified iron door faces you ever so imposingly, a towering frame that stands a solid ten feet above you, and you sigh in relief. "Il Dottore" painted in bright white slashes across the door, and you hesitantly stretch your hand out–to knock... or maybe to open the imposing slab of metal. A second passes, and as it turns out, you don't have to choose, because the door slides open automatically, a faint mechanical whirr resounding throughout the premises.

You stride in quickly. A sickeningly sweet scent permeates the air around you, the fragrance wafting off the incense sticks burning at the harbinger's desk. You fleetingly wonder how on earth he could stand the oppressively strong smell, but that doesn't matter right now. Dottore isn't here, you have the report in your hand, tucked neatly into a blue folder (Dottore insisted all papers delivered to him must be so in blue folders only. Not green, not yellow. Blue). All you had to do was set it on your Lord Harbinger's desk and get the hell out of here before he returned. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with intense heart palpitations as he questions you about one thing or the other, or goes on a philosophical rant that you didn't ask to hear while laughing manically as his terrifyingly sharp fangs glint under the white light.  Yup, no way. So, you set the folder onto the pristine oak desk, eyes still heavy and head pounding from your lack of sleep.

A soft breath of relief furls past your lips as soon as the folder hits the desk, and then, you try to turn on your heel and get out of here. Keyword: try, because just as you resign yourself to leaving, your gaze strays to the long, plush, brown leather sofa seated at the corner of the office-meets-laboratory. Fuck, that looks comfortable–no, what in the world were you thinking?! Get out, you mentally scream at yourself. 

Yet, the more logical part of your brain has shut down, and a tired sigh leaves you as you stumble over to the couch. Just a second. You're so, so sleepy. Just a second and then you'll leave, you think, and plop onto the cushions. Your mind is blank, and your limbs feel like they're weighed down by lead. You blink slowly, your body sinks into the soft leather. This sofa must have cost your entire annual salary, what with how comfortable it is. A faint moan bubbles up your throat at the feeling of being engulfed in softness like this, and your eyelids droop. Before you can register, you're slipping away, into the inescapable depths of sleep.

Out like a light. 

It could've been 10 minutes, it could've been an hour, or it could've been all day, but at some point, your name is called, and you're too deep into the recesses of unconsciousness to process it as a word. All it manifests as is a distant voice spinning around your head.

Dottore had trudged into his lab after a rather exhausting day of fieldwork, of examining poisonous flower samples on the outskirts of Avidya Forest with the diligence of the... scientist he was. The deep velvet of his voice uttered your name, and when he received no response, he hummed to himself. He continues to stand over you now, gazing down with the eyes of a predator and the smile of a fox

"Didn't see you there," he mutters to himself more than anything, because, from the looks of it, you're in slumber. His eyes observe the scene before him. The way your chest rises and falls rhythmically, the way your rosy lips are parted just a bit, and the way the moonlight filtering in through the windows catches on the curve of your cheekbones. The inviting sight before him has him licking his lips and adjusting the collar of his coat.

"How lovely..."

The inviting sight, because yes, that's what it was, you were inviting him to indulge, weren't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, asleep on his couch, in his space, blouse unbuttoned once or twice at the top. You know what you're doing, aren't you? He's not the bad guy for just... taking the hint, if you will. His hands twitch at his sides, and his smile widens. You're sleeping, and if you saw the terrifyingly sinister grin on his face right now, you would've thanked the archons for sparing you its sight by letting it stretch upon his lips now that you are asleep, unable to see it.

As though he were debating whether to go about whatever evil he was about to, he crosses his arms over his chest, gaze locked on your form and brow furrowed in thought. He wasn't thinking about the depravity of his potential actions and the psychological harm they may cause you later on. No, no. He didn't have a conscience loud enough for that kind of thought to grace his mind. He was simply thinking about the logical implications. It was... unprofessional–to say the least–to grope your subordinates in their sleep, and should word get out about it, the Second Harbinger will never hear the end of it–especially not from Pantalone. It could jeopardize his relationship with all the investors who fund his research. It could also get him in a pickle with Arlecchino, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that crazy woman for at least the next century.

But it was dark outside. You were asleep, and he had the whole night to himself. It wasn't his fault, and if you were to awaken, well, it's not like you were going to tell. Oh, he'll make sure of that.

His decision is made, and without a single thread of doubt left in his mind, he crouches by your side, eyes locked on your slumbering face. The smile that stretches along his lips is one reserved for moments like these, for moments when he silently observes the unconscious features of those that fall into his predacious hands. There was always something about unconsciousness that stirred something in him. He was fascinated by the human brain, but he was also fascinated by the unadulterated powerlessness of an unconscious human. It gave him a power trip of sorts, knowing he was the lion and the slumbering were the deer. He chuckles to himself as his eyes fall upon the trail of drool at the corner of your lips, a sound so quiet and smooth that it could have melted butter.

"Don't worry, agent. I'll be... gentle," his words are spoken softly, yet they hold the same venom that his actions always do. They're meant for the both of you. "I won't hurt you."

He won't, will he?

Well, that was for him to know and for you to find out–should you awaken. His gloved hand, gentle but firm, snakes under your head and props it up, and his other hand is busy pushing the buttons of your blouse apart, one by one, until your raven-black bra meets his gaze. He breathes out in a soft exhale, a sound too tranquil for a man of his reputation, and his hand gently tips your face toward him. He meets your face halfway, scanning his sharp eyes over your sleeping features for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, though you can't feel it in your drowse. Slowly, almost like he was deliberately holding himself off, he lets his lips brush against yours, and then he tests the waters some more, giving them a light kiss. You subconsciously shift at the contact, but you're still asleep, and that's enough reassurance for him to go further, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. 

You taste like candy; sweet, soft, and addicting. You're an aphrodisiac, aren't you? He wonders, and his tongue prods at the seam of your lips, begging entrance, but it doesn't take. A soft, almost inaudible growl emanates from him, and the distant feel of his tongue has your breathing stuttering, a whimper bubbling up from your throat, but you don't wake, and that has his pants feeling a lot tighter than they were a few seconds ago.

"tsk," he grumbles against your lips. He's not sure if he wanted you asleep or awake right now. There was a thrill he felt in his veins when he teetered on the edge of danger like this, but there also seemed to be a thrill at the thought of having you awake for this, eyes wide in fear and lust all at once, soft implorations of "please let me go, Lord Dottore" falling from your lips like a mantra.

In the end, though, he'll have his way, and it doesn't matter what your state is. His tongue slips past your parted lips and invades the heat of your mouth, his sharpened canines grazing your tongue. His saliva, mixed with the residue of alcohol he had before heading back, drips down your chin and stains your blouse. If you were awake, you would've found the whole ordeal sloppy and wet, but since you weren't, all it felt like was warmth, and a foreign feeling, as his tongue prodded and probed your mouth. Your brows knit together, and a soft, unconscious moan escapes your lips, one that he greedily swallows. You're not so sure what's going on, still in a drowse that makes you think you're having some sort of insanely realistic wet dream. You hadn't slept in almost two days after all. Archons knew you weren't about to let anything wake you from your much-needed rest. 

Dottore retreats from your lips and pauses for a moment, eyes raking over your form as though his mind was scanning over all the choices of what to do to you next. 

"Ah," he says, like he was hit with a revolutionary idea. It wasn't so revolutionary, because the next thing that happens is the harbinger's hands finding their way to your chest, the cool leather of his gloves brushing against the bare patch of skin he revealed to himself when unbuttoning your blouse down three or four buttons. You shift again, and the movement has his fingers accidentally grazing over your bra-clad nipples. The sudden touch causes your body to arch and a low groan to rumble in the back of your throat. You were sensitive, he notes, and a grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

But you see, Dottore was getting bored of his self-inflicted abstinence. He did tell himself he had all night earlier, but come to think of it, he actually doesn't. He wants it fast and rough, and he wants it now. So, he lets his hand trail down for a moment, shamelessly shoving it into your pants and letting his fingers play with your pussy over your panties.

"H-hnngh!" You gasp in your sleep, and if you were awake, you'd be able to almost feel the smirk he wears as he continues, a finger pressing insistently at your clit, even if the fabric of your underwear is in the way.

"Oh? Do you like this then, agent?" he asks, and the words are an almost inaudible whisper. The question is rhetorical, after all. He doesn't give a flying fuck if you do like it, and he was talking himself through it more than he was you. 

Your head lolls to the side and a shaky breath leaves you. Your panties are subconsciously growing wet, an automatic bodily reaction to being touched here, and his finger doesn't relent. It's a good thing, however, that the friction of the thin fabric has you writhing, and the stimulation has him impatient, his fingers hastily moving to roughly pull your pants down, then to grip the fabric of your blouse, ripping it apart, buttons popping off the garment and onto the ground with soft clicks. The supple flesh of your torso is now exposed and open, and so are your eyes. It takes you a second to register what's going on. 

You're... lying on the sofa.

What time was it?

What are you doing here, exactly?

"W-what..." the words barely leave you, and suddenly, sleep has left you completely, the feeling of a heavy weight against your body taking its place, and the realization that a man is on top of you.

Your eyes snap open wider, and the first thing you see is Dottore's grinning, almost psychotic-looking eyes boring through you. 

"My Lord?!" you cry, and everything comes rushing back. You went to drop a report to the Lord Harbinger. You fell asleep on the couch in his laboratory.

"What are you doing?!" you demand as assertively as you can in a situation like this, but your voice shakes in fear despite your efforts.

"I could ask you the same question, agent," he hums, and his gloved fingers move to trail over the expanse of your breasts, fondling and groping with not a sliver of shame. "You were asleep when I came in, and so, I assumed, naturally, that you wanted me to do this. Why else would you have been so conveniently sprawled out on my couch, in the privacy of my lab, half-naked and vulnerable?"

"I-I didn't–I wasn't half naked," you try to defend yourself–with such a witless refutation too–but how could you possibly defend yourself? The harbinger was right. You were asleep on the couch in his private lab. Utterly disrespectful. And he caught you. Maybe this was karma–or just your luck. 

"Hush, now," he purrs, and his fingers slither behind your back to the band of your bra. You don't have time to react as the garment is pulled off you in one swift motion, tossed away and onto the floor, and then his hands are back on your tits, kneading the supple flesh, pinching your hardened nipples.

"My Lord–stop it, please," you plead, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you, the action shooting straight between your thighs, which clamp together as best as they can with Dottore straddling your waist with all his weight.

He was a scary man, Il Dottore, and even if he wasn't physically hurting you–for now–the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to scare the shit out of you. You were utterly, hopelessly, and vulnerably at his mercy, and the worst part is, you have a feeling that not a single person in this whole 8-story facility would stand up for you. Not a single Fatui subordinate would dare.

"Stop? Oh, darling! But we haven't even started," he laughs, like what you just suggested was utterly ridiculous, and a shudder runs down your body.

"You know," he hums, leaning closer and lowering his head to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. "You can scream–if you'd like. No one would hear." 

You have no time to retort, because Dottore's head dips to the valley of your breasts immediately, then his lips ghost over one of your nipples, swiftly taking the nub in his mouth. A sharp inhale rushes into your lungs, and a whimper threatens to spill from your throat. You're not quite sure if the feeling coursing through you is fear or lust or both, because it makes your stomach churn how good this actually feels. Your eyes are squeezed shut, and Dottore’s teeth graze the sensitive skin around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity between your legs, then his tongue flicks over the hardening peak.

"Mmh," the moan bubbles up from the very back of your throat. 

"Oh? So... still want me to stop now, agent?" he muses, mockingly, and his free hand is back at your pussy, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the soaked fabric. Your hips buck up, so he takes that as a sign to push the garment aside, a finger sliding between your wet lips.

"No, my Lord," you gasp, and you can't believe the words that come out of your own mouth. Dottore's hand doesn't stop, and his thumb presses down on your clit, and a breathy, whiny moan escapes you.

"See? This isn't so bad, now, is it?" he doesn't give you any warning before his fingers dip into your wet pussy, the intrusion causing you to jerk. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers. His sharp canines dig into his lower lip.

"Aren't you a good little whore. So pretty and obedient for your Lord Harbinger," Dottore purrs, and his thumb begins to move against your clit, while his fingers curl and press insistently at your walls. Your legs tremble, a string of moans falls from your lips, and if anyone told you just an hour ago that the Second Lord Harbinger Il Dottore was going to finger you in his lab, you would've laughed and asked who the fuck would say something like that.

Alas, Dottore wasn't a patient man, so it's no surprise that he doesn't finger you long enough before his hands pull away from you entirely, and he "tsks" impatiently to himself. He has to have you now. He's been so, so nice. Hasn't he? Kind enough to prep you for him instead of plunging himself into you from the get-go. If anything, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back for his thoughtfulness. 

Swiftly, his hands reach under your thighs, and with an alarming amount of ease, he yanks you down and away from the cushion that sprawled beneath your head. Then, he's settling between your legs. A soft whimper is torn from your throat when the cold, metal buckle of his belt grazes the inside of your thigh. You watch, helpless, as his hands make quick work of his pants, unzipping the black uniform, and pushing them down just far enough to pull his cock out. You can't help but gulp at the sight, and the wideness of your eyes makes Dottore laugh out an almost sadistic-sounding string of giggles. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he hums, the term of endearment spoken so condescendingly. "You'll take it well. Won't you?"

His words aren't a question. They're a statement. An absolute, undeniable fact. An order. You'll take it well, whether you want to or not, and the knowledge has you almost making a run for the door, but the thought leaves you as fast as it came.

Dottore doesn't wait for a response that won’t come, or a plea for him not to do this, not to force his cock into your tight heat, and you're not quite sure why, but you don't find yourself objecting, or trying to kick him away. Maybe you were curious. Maybe this was a materialization of one of your own depraved fantasies. Or maybe you were just scared he'd kill you if you resisted.if you made a run for the door like you fleetingly thought just now. 

His fingers curl around the base of his thick cock, fist then sliding up and down in a few experimental pumps. The tip presses at your entrance almost desperately, and he's pushing the head into your tightness before you can process. He's a big man. The stretch burns. It has a hiss tearing from the back of your throat, and a pained grimace twisting your features.

"Shh," Dottore murmurs, his other hand reaching up to caress the side of your face almost soothingly, the action a stark contrast to the harshness of his current actions.

"Good, good," he whispers, his voice is sickeningly smooth, as though he were genuinely consoling you.

Then, just like that, his hips snap forward, not giving you time to adjust as the entirety of his cock is engulfed in the warmth of your pussy. You're clamping down around him, and it has him groaning lowly in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut, the grip of his hands that are now on your hips tightening.

"Agent," he sighs, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your sides. It'll leave a mark there. A reminder.

You're not quite sure where the burning pain had gone. All that remains is an aching desire, a desperate need, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Your hands move, without a conscious command from your brain, and they rest on Dottore's shoulders, holding on tightly. The harbinger smiles down at you with sickening sweetness, no, not sweetness, mockery. Or maybe sweetness. God, you were a mess. Your mind was nothing but a blob of mush at this moment, and Dottore's hands shift to the underside of your knees, pushing your legs up and thrusting his cock even deeper at this new, utterly indecent angle. 

"My Lord!" the moan is punched out of you. His lips meet yours again, his sharp canines scraping over the sensitive flesh. Your hands slide to tangle into his hair, pulling and tugging at the soft blue strands. An almost whiny groan escapes the harbinger's throat at the action. His movements become more desperate. Fast and rough. So fast and rough you're scared you'll be split in two. The plush sofa under the two of you shakes and creaks. 

"So, so good," he whines, face contorted in pleasure, but as though he caught himself in his haze before it spiraled, his lips pull back into a domineering sneer. "Take it," he demands, and the words, combined with the obscene feeling of being filled to the brim, are enough to have your vision going white. You claw at Dottore's shoulders with desperate fervor. 

"L-Lord Harbinger. I think I'm going to–" 

"Do it," he commands with the struggle of a man on the brink of ecstasy, and he folds you even more. If you weren't agile–thanks to your agent training–you're sure you would've actually split into two by now. Back arching off the sofa, a string of incoherent, unintelligible moans escapes your throat. Your pussy clamps down around the thick cock stretching it, and a wave of pleasure courses through you, rendering your muscles numb.

The sight and feeling of you unraveling have Dottore following closely after, his movements becoming erratic and uncoordinated. It's a sight like never seen before; the normally ever so composed man crumbling like this, and then, he's spilling his hot cum into you, a guttural groan reverberating throughout his chest. He fills you to the brim until the warm white liquid leaks out of your aching pussy and stains the leather under you. 

A second passes, then two, then three, then a few seconds more. Dottore lets the head of his cock press against your insides one last time before pulling out. He sits back on his knees and regards you for a moment with an almost frightening calmness, and you open your mouth to try and say something, because why was he looking at you like you were nothing but the scum of the ground he walks on after literally cumming inside of you as some lover would?

"The couch will need some cleaning. I trust you can get that sorted tomorrow, agent?" He says finally with a cock of his head, voice level and calm as he climbs off of you and stands on his feet, tucking himself back into his pants as he nonchalantly hums a tune to himself, like this was just another day of fucking his subordinates in their sleep. And maybe it was; you didn’t know, but right now, you're still paralyzed in your spot, just staring at him, and so he turns to glance at you. "Get dressed. You're dismissed for today."

You can only gape, speechless, watching as Dottore turns his back to you once more and disappears into the microscopy workroom in his lab, a certain energized spring to his step.

What the fuck just happened?

The workroom's door closes behind him with a soft click, and he smiles to himself.

Ah, the thrill.

Now, it was time to get back to his research.

[oneforthemunny]

yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.

this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!

contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.

word count: 3.5k+

“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear. 

There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core. 

“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong. 

“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-” 

“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?” 

“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue. 

“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with. 

“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”

“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”

“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room. 

“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request. 

“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded. 

“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-” 

“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-” 

“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?” 

The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother. 

Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you. 

You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway. 

“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.” 

“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat. 

Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school. 

As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why. 

“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass. 

Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?” 

“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?”  Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window. 

You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow. 

“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house. 

“No, she’s not gonna puke-” 

“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-” 

“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.” 

“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window. 

“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window. 

“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-” 

“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.” 

“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?” 

“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.” 

“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-” 

“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.” 

“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut. 

“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly. 

“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?” 

“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.” 

“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you. 

You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road. 

“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once. 

Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street. 

“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.” 

“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly. 

“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered. 

“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side. 

“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-” 

“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone. 

“I-I,-” 

“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.” 

You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent. 

“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle. 

“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump. 

“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel. 

He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully. 

“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.” 

“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping. 

“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison. 

“I just came and-and got them-” 

“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod. 

“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-” 

“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat. 

“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe. 

The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch. 

You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough. 

“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.” 

“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins. 

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got  home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night. 

Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.” 

You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.” 

Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.” 

You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining. 

The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table. 

“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.

Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe. 

“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook. 

You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.” 

You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window. 

“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body. 

“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure. 

“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch. 

“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water. 

“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous? 

“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him. 

A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.” 

“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.” 

Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings. 

“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly. 

Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort. 

“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully. 

“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully. 

Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying. 

Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him. 

“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?” 

“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest. 

“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?

“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement. 

“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper. 

“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine. 

You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble. 

Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time. 

"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors. 

The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.

[brucewaynehater101]

I had an AU, that at this point is more of a headcanon for me, that I thought you might enjoy because it's a nice mix of angst, Tim not thinking things are as bad as they very clearly are, and some fluff.

So it's pretty widely accepted that the Bats don't really know anything about Tim's days with Young Justice right? Like they might know one or two small facts, but they don't know that the gang blew up Mount Rushmore, any of the times the DEO tried to arrest them and drag them into Government Labs for experimentation, or that time they went to a Disco Themed Hell with Supergirl. They sure as hell don't know about any of the things that happened with Secret and Harm. Even though Tim would canonically be gone for days at a time (some of his adventures, mainly the one when they were gone for THE ENTIRE WINTER OLYMPICS) with no one noticing. One time they were in space and had enough time to not only go to Darksied's planet but spent WEEKS there and when they got back still not even Batman knows that Tim was even gone.

Anyways, all this to say. If Tim vanished for a month or two and just said he was spending time with Young Justice again while sending in case files and stuff to keep Bruce busy, I don't think anyone would notice. Nor would they notice if he suddenly switched from being Right Handed to being Left Handed and then after months of practice he goes back to being right handed. It's such a small change after all.

So here's the headcanon. On a Young Justice mission, something goes horribly wrong and Tim full on looses his hand. It's simply gone. The reason no one knows or notices is that he got a robotic replacement, a very realistic looking one like Roy Harper has, that he spent a few months learning how to work with and then went to physical therapy for it for years. It's just part of his life now and he thinks everyone knows, after all. How could they miss it? Jason has seen his palm open with a screw driver deep in his wires. Jason thought he was still tripping from fighting Scarecrow a few hours before. Not a single person outside of Cassie, Tim, Kon, Bart, Greta, Anita, Slobo, and Cissie knows that Tim is missing his right arm just below his elbow for almost 5 years.

That is until Tim has been up for 4 days straight and Dick says something about needing a hand with something and in a moment of sleep deprived brilliance, Tim takes off his hand, and throws it at Dick.

Yes! I love this AU/hc. There is a fic that kind of has this situation: "I told you about that... Didn't I?" by weewoow_070603. Jason is the one to find out, though.

I like the details you added in this AU that the fic (as far as I remember) didn't add: Tim being gone is a regular thing, the fear toxin with Jason, the months of physical therapy, etc.

I do think something as vital as this would happen to Tim, and he'd just forget to tell his family. At first, he tries to hide it. He doesn't want to deal with their fretting, the lectures, the scolding, and them getting involved. He has it handled, after all. After a while, he forgets that he should hide it and why he did in the first place. Then someone finds out, and he's confused why they don't know such a common place thing.

I'm also super glad you tied in all those YJ examples that you did. People tend to focus on the space baseball or Santa Clause (which I love those events too), so it was refreshing to see other events as examples.

[mildlyromanticperv]

What did you expect of me?

Karina x MReader. Fluff. Enemies to lovers.

-For christ sake, what a bitch! -Your anger boiling in your heart and your brain tells you, no, yells you to go to your managers office and demand a fair treatment, it's just ourageous that among all the workers in the office you have to stay late every single day of the week to cover the "last project of the quarter".

No matter what you do, how hard you work, how many late nights and how many cups of coffee you drink at a day, it just feels like a prison in here, the office that hired you as the main developer for the website on their new brand "Supernova."

Plus, who names a project "Supernova"? Sounds like with just a simple code here and there you'd make the market implode and then explode in money... If your manager Karina expects for that to happen she's either naively hopeful or a total delusional.

-You, come to my office. -Her cold words stabs your brain, after a whole week hearing her low pitch condescending dictatorial voice you can't bear to listen to it one more time, but you need this job like, DESPERATELY need this job, so there's no talk back to the boss.

-Yes boss?

-We're behind on the project, have you been slacking off again? -Her cold judgemental gaze falls upon your black sacked eyes showing off the immense exhaustion you have tu put up with during the project.

-Look boss, I'm doing my best, I haven't slept well these past few days but I assure you I will have everything ready by next month even if the useless of my coworkers don't do shit. -Your tongye got the best of you and runs wild. -I just need to have a good night sleep, can you let me out early today?

-No, we are all hands on deck and you know that. -She sighs and rubs her forehead in a clear show of stress and disappointment. -Just go back to work and don't screw anything up.

Any person with enough patience would put up with that shit, but not you, not now at least. The condescending tone and the past sleep deprived week has been just too much for you, clearly you're not thinking straight anymore, or perhaps you're thinking clearer...?

-Fuck this.

-Excuse me? -She responds with equal or perhaps even higher anger.

-Fuck this Karina, I'm not doing any more shit today and I'm tired to put up with your fucking demands. Fire me if you want I'm going home to sleep. -You really shuld've thought that better, but what is done is done, you start to pick up your stuff and bracing yourself for the shouting match.

-You cross that door and you're suspended, one week half pay. -Surprisingly enough instead of picking up a fight and shouting her vocal cords off as she usually does, she just stares straight into your eyes with a gaze so cold it could freeze hell itself. -You're not the only developer in our payroll, if I wanted I could fire your sorry ass right now and make it so you never work as a developer never again in your life, so consider this a favour.

Breathe.

Don't let that tone of hers get into your core.

Just, breathe.

-Fuck you. -It's the only thing you get to say before actually leaving.

-One week suspension no pay, and don't you dare call me or text me asking to forgive you. Jackass.

With the anger oozing through your pores you just slam the door and head out. You start your car and praying you don't crash you go from 0 to 100 in just a couple of seconds screeching the tires of your car.

-Please god, take care of him... -She sighs under her breath.

But wait... What?

Take care of him?

During that next week there was absolutely no news from you on the office, things started to be more... tense. You've received a ton of messages from your coworkers basically begging him to come back, but the answer is defenitive: No.

However things don't ever go your way.

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

-Hey, we need to talk, come to the office. -Again, that swee... No. Annyoing voice again.

-I'm suspended. -Your answer comes as soon as the thought hits your brain.

A sigh from the other line and a faint whisper.

-This man is going to be the death of me some day. -But then the usual tone returns. -Look, I made a rash decision and we need your intel, you're the one that knows the way around our software.

-I thought you had several developers in your payroll, I bet they can help. -You say sipping through the wine you bought for that dinner for one you've been pushing away so much due to the job.

-I'm asking nicely, and around here you know that's as rare as an unicorn. Just come here tomorrow and finish the project, we're ahead.

-Ahead? What do you mean ahead? You said we we're behind last week! -Your voice comes harsher and harsher, even though your chest is telling you not to.

Not to her.

-I lied to try and make things faster, okay? Just come and we can talk like professionals. -She couldn't come to acknowledge the fact that she just wanted to see you. She couldn't admit that she misses your cologne, your three day beard and your stoic gaze when you're so deep in thought. -I'll send you the advances that have been made.

Right away she hangs up the phone, relieved she didn't break down into yelling or insults. Right away an email arrives on your computer with such incredibly... small advances looks like you carried the entire project all by yourself.

-Why am I not surprised? -You sigh under your breath as you pause the movie you were watching and read what has been done, immediately you start chaning... well, almost everything.

Next day...

You should at least turn off the car, for real, have you seen how expensive the gas is around these days?

"Just go, I avoid her any longer... I- I don't want to..." -It's the only thought that crosses your mind, the thought of seeing her piercing eyes again, the feeling of her gaze piercing and burning through your very soul, the loud beating of your heart as you look at her lips...

Her lips...

If only she wasn't your boss, right?

-So, I checked the non existent advances the useless guys did, and...

-How you've been? Have you slept well? -For some reason her tone wasn't condescending anymore, the worry present on her voice...

Could it be?

-Yes, finally in months I've been sleeping great... -Her eyes, oh. my. god... Her eyes... -Anyways, I have everything finished now, you can present it to corporate. -You say trying to avoid her eyes as you speak sarcastically and look at your watch.

-Big date coming or something? -She asks, doing an awesome job yo hide the jealousy.

-Just wondering how long this will take. -She sighs again, feeling the anger and stress of your cold demeanor.

-Your week of suspension ends today and the weekind is off by legal, so you can go now and I'll see you on monday.

-Sure.

After that you just go back to your usual routine, the weekend goes great and the next week of work comes, with so much less stress that even the busiest day feels like a walk through the park. The time off work led you to watch so much shows, and so much free time, time spent in imagining your life outside of work with that person that would make your days so much happier.

Thinking of love.

What a great future you could have, perhaps you could get married and have kids, after all that's your dream.

In a year you'd ascendo in your job, start earning more, you'd start dating to finally get the chance to let you feel that love you so desperately look for, In a year your boss wouldn't be your boss and perhaps you could date her, in a year you'd buy your first...

Your boss? Date... your boss?

Why would you think that? She's a bitch.

"But she's a gorgeous bitch." You thought, perhaps... only perhaps... You wanted that, you liked your boss...

*Bzz* *Bzz* *Bzz*

Your phone rings with a text from your boss.

-Corporate loved the project, we were given monday to celebrate, so I'll be expecting you monday 7:00 A.M. sharp for the party.

-Got it boss. And hey, sorry for snapping out last week. -Perhaps this could be a beginning, you know you should keep things professional, you keep telling yourself to stop but flesh is weak.

-Yeah, just don't be late. -Her response cold as always after 5 minutes of writing and deleting, she's also in the midst of an inner debate, whether let herself feel what she wants to feel for you or just don't say anything.

But why? Why shouldn't you try? Because she's your boss? There's plenty of people that date with their boss and make it work, you shouldn't keep ahold of the prospect of your happiness just because people might judge, that's the whole point, living for yourself and be happy yourself. Isn't it?

That very Monday at 7:00 A.M. you show yourself at work wearing a new white T-shirt and some loose jeans, your usual wrist watch and a new cologne you bought just for your boss, nothing else is going to stop you.

-Hey, boss. -You came to talk to her made a nrevous wreck not really knowing what to do to get her attention.

-Oh, here he is, the brain behind it all. -She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to present you to some corporate officers like if you were a prize, like you never shouted before... Like you two were friends... Being so close to her made your every sense enter overdrive and your nostrils welcomed her particular scent, that magnificent smell of lavender and strawberries sent your head over the moon.

The rest of the party went completely normal, talking here, showing off there... Taking glances at your boss every once in a while as well.

Wait, did she looked at you as well?

Was she blushing?

-Hey boss can I talk to you for a sec? -You got closer and whispered into her ear, not long after she pointed you to the balcony where you usually go to have your lunch.

-Make it quick.

-Look boss, there's no easy way for me to say this, but I think I should quit... I... I have feelings for you.

-Is that so? -Her cold demeanor makes you back off for a second, unable to tell the truth in her eyes you stutter.

-I know, I know that I was rude last week and I'm being just way too out of line. -Her eyes shine with a glint never seen before, in her mind the thoughts are divided whether she should speak from her heart, as Karina. Or speak from her brain as Ms. Jimin, regional Manager of your branch.

-You know you're my worker, and this is incredibly inappropriate.

-Don't you feel the same for me? I saw you looking for my eyes before.

-Don't be ridiculous, I'm your boss. -Despite the way she feels work ethics comes first, how can a manager could let a worker speak to her that way?

-I don't care. -It's the last thing you said before leaning forward and placing your hand against her cheek, caressing her soft skin and pressing your lips over hers.

For a second all that exists is you and her, together in a tight embrace holding her waist desperately thinking that if you'd ever let go of her she'd just vanish in the thin air. She responds to your advances letting your body invade her personal space, for mere seconds that feel like an eternity all that she can feel is your hands gripping her blouse until she lets go of any ties and wrap her arms around your neck, tipping into her toe-tips to match as much as she can your height.

-We... We can't... I'm your boss... -Her voice comes out cracking, breathing unsteady due to the raw passion she just felt a while ago. -It's inappropriate.

-I don't care, I'll quit if needed, I just care that I want you.

-I want you too. -She rests her head on your shoulder nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck.

You then caress her soft hair, taking a deep breath of her unique scent that send jolts of electricity along your brain.

-So what now, boss? -This time the words come out strong, lovingly, softly.

-Now we talk to HR, couples need to fill paperwork. -She pulls back and looks into your eyes again. -You always make me do more and more paperwork... -She then whispers in your ear. -Sweetie.

[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 ★

Wow just realised this entire time my asks have been off woopsie ●_● Should be fixed now.

Anyway, since y'all went feral over this dynamic (and I can't blame you), here's more of Carmilla with her adopted fallen angel child.

I know I said part 2, but I'm honestly considering making this a sort've slice-of-life series seeing as I absolutely love this dyanmic and I'm having some serious brainrot over these two.

Part 1 ↫ Right Here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,662 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, somewhat depressed reader, minor mentions of gore, sleep deprived writing, potential ooc Carmilla, mother mode Carmilla increased

Getting used to your new life required more effort than you ever thought was ever needed. Getting used to living in hell was a chore in of itself, and quite a tedious one, and getting used to the new family you now found yourself surrounded by only piled on a tad more stress.

Unlike heaven, the land below was almost always swathed in some sort've darkness - There was literally no day night cycle at all and it was fucking with your head. Your poor circadian rhythm was completely thrown all over the place when three in the morning was just as bright at two in the afternoon. Not to mention the smoke ever present in the air. You weren't sure which you hated more between the two.

(Probably the air. You actually liked it when you breathed and didn't hack up a lung.)

It was a lot, especially when you were getting used to your new wingless life.

(Which sucked, by the way. Every time your fight or flight response kicked in, you found yourself straining your back muscles trying to lift off with nothing to support you and it made you want to cry every single time it happened.)

However, all of this was way better than what could've happened had Carmilla not saved your life. Your back still ached and the phantom pain still tortured you at night, the feather-fluff nubs of your old wings only served as a painful reminder. As much as you hated to admit it, often times you'd spend the entire night longing for the newly comforting touch of your adopted mother figure…

Wow. That felt weird to admit. That and a whole lot of other repressed emotions and memories.

You groaned and sighed, clutching your head and threading your fingers through your tussled bedhair. Your back muscles flexed, the sound of rustling feathers muffled by the mattress. The sensation was weird enough to make you 'gwak', roll on to your stomach and faceplant into your pillow. It was more natural that way, anyway - When one has wings it was rather difficult to sleep on your back, afterall, at least after your first growth spurt. You never thought you would miss the feeling, but you fought to find any silver lining in your new life. And in a world that was mostly shades of red, silver was quite a luxury.

Your somewhat depressing quiet time was broken by the gentle tapping of steel carefully approaching your room.

"Mi peque?" You didn't have the energy to jump, already having heard the delicate 'tink' of Carmilla's pointed shoes against the hardword floor of your new home. Her silhouette took up most of the doorway, the faint light spilling in from the hallway making the angelic steel decorating her body glow, much like the warm lull of her crimson eyes. Your head tiltied to the side to stare at her, but otherwise you made no movement.

She blinked once and ducked her head to step into your room. If you were, well, you from about a week ago, you probably would've been shitting bricks at the sight. It was lowkey terrifying, mostly because Carmilla was so much taller than you and had the expression of a constantly pissed off commander or something. However, it didn't scare you - Mostly because your worst nightmare had already come true.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft, something that completely contrasted her outward exterior. It was soothing, though, and you found yourself not caring when she settled herself on the end of your bed.

(Your new bed. Your new bed that you could, for once, comfortably stretch out on.)

"Something like that," You mumbled, practically whispered. Your eyes glowed much like Carmilla's, like a mischevious cat from your spot hidden under your multiple blankets. "It's, mm, weird. Sleeping by myself."

Her eyebrow quirked, a silent invitation to continue if you wanted to. Maybe? Emotions were still hard to read for you.

"Well, because I'm used to sleeping in the barracks with the rest of my platoon. It's apparently really comforting, seeing as I haven't had a good sleep since I got here," You grappled your blankets a little tighter, as if doing so would provide you with some sort've phantom comfort that you secretly longed for.

A breath of silence hung steadily in the air, as if both your minds were churning on what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

"M'sorry."

You both said at the same time, which seemed just a little cliche. Slinking out from underneath your covers, you couldn't help by eye the demon across from you warily.

"Why're you sorry?"

"Because, I'll admit, I'm a little rusty," She reached up and untied her buns, letting her hair loosen and tumble down her back. "It's been a while since my girls were young like you-" You scoffed, which prompted an amused smirk "And it's not like I know anything about taking care of an angel."

"Well, you're doing better than what they were doing up there," You blankly motioned upwards where the pearly gates shone brightly in the sky like a constant sun. "Plus, I'd say you're dealing with me as gracefully as you can."

"Elaborate?" Carmila carded her fingers through her hair, tilting her head curiously. The mountain on your shoulders threatened to stumble, and by god you were ready to let it fall.

"Well, it's not like any heaven-born has parents. Heaven was always all about equality and shit, and every single child was raised by the community. And yeah, it was all rainbows and crap because everyone was loved mostly equally, but it sucked because I was always just another nestling that someone had to keep an eye on," You brought your knees up to your chest. "That's why, when the lieutenant gave me her offer I didn't refuse, cause I thought 'wow, someone noticed me!' and it was a feeling I chased ever since."

It felt nice to let it all out for once. Not like anyone else around you back then really cared, cause they all went through the same thing.

Beside you, the covers rustled. Carmilla opened her arms wordlessly, minutely enough that if you didn't want to, you could probably brush the motion off as stretching. But, the warmth the she radiated was sorely tempting, and your little serotonin deprived brain was severly touch-starved.

Wow, four days into your new life, and you found yourself snuggling into the arms of one of Hell's overlords. And, sullying the lord's name, by god you loved it.

Not a single word had to be uttered between the two of you, not as long as you didn't want it. That was the silent message that you both clearly understood.

It kind've made you want to cry, if you were being honest with yourself. In a place that had seemingly been perfect, you found your life lacking, and in the burning pits of eternal damnation, you'd found yourself feeling loved for the first time since you could remember. The way Carmilla's hold around you grew tighter, just ever so slightly - A comforting weight draped across your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. That, along with her mellow breathing, it felt homely and nostalgic.

Tugging your blankets a little tighter around yourself, you didn't even fight the way your eyelids drooped.

Two weeks.

It felt like a lot longer, but you'd been living in hell for fourteen days, and it already felt like you'd been living here for months.

Well, it certainly didn't help that you never really left the main house. Like, ever. And you, for one, weren't complaining. The burning pits of Hell left much to be desired, and as a little angel who hadn't even had her first adult moult yet, you didn't really fancy going galavanting off around Hell, even if Carmilla was hovering over your shoulder like a helicopter parent.

Still, after the first week where you'd discovered and explored all the places that you were allowed to (the allure of the armory was great, but the potential wrath of an angry demon was greater), there wasn't really anything to do around the house. Sure, it was probably one of the safest places in the eternal firepit, but neither Carmilla nor Clara and Odette were ever really around, and it left you bored out of your mind.

Sprawled out across a rather decadent couch, soaking up the hellfire from outside, you found yourself wishing that something would happen that would hopefully prevent your mind from rotting further. But, if the big man from upstairs was paying attention, he surely must've hated you, because literally nothing was happening.

Unless…

You sat up, straining your ears.

Nope. Absolutely nothing.

You flopped backwards dramatically, back of your hand against your forehead and all.

Maybe, if you still had your weapon, you could've spent your time training or practicing or something. There was a training room somewhere in the house, and you weren't explicitly banned from using it, and it wasn't exactly a useless way to spend your time.

(At least that way you'd be able to get some reasonable exercise in rather than just moping around all day.)

Maybe that was something you could ask Carmilla later. She wasn't the type to be against learning self defense, however you had no idea if even she deemed yourself too young to learn how to fight. She certainly was not happy when she found out about how you were sent to fight with baby feathers still warming your wings, that was for sure.

At least you had something to talk about when she got home.

…

"You want to learn how to fight?" As expected, Carmilla didn't seem entirely thrilled at your idea.

"Not necessarily. Just, how to use weapons?" It was more of a question than an answer, but it seemed to ease the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What type of weapons? Swords? Spears? Firearms?" She fixed you with a look. "If you want to get started, the first thing you could do is be a little more specific."

Which was certainly not the answer you were expecting, so you took a few moments to blue screen.

"Well, I wasn't too fond of using spears… Swords don't sound to appealing either…" Your eyes started drifting, and soon you found that your real answer was right in front of you.

"If possible," You wrung your hands nervously, "could I use shoes like you do?"

Honestly, Carmilla's unique fighitng style had piqued your interest ever since your head became clear enough to notice. Having your hands free sounded more appealing than lugging around a heavy blade.

The demoness paused for a moment, completely silent as she studied you with a stern gaze. It wasn't negative or positive, if anything it was most likely calculative. You weren't entirely stupid, even if you were young, and you weren't naive. Carmilla was weighing the pros and cons of teaching you her trade.

"Why? They aren't exactly easy to use," That wasn't a no, at least.

"I don't like melee weapons, not hand-held ones at least," There was more to your answer that Carmilla already knew. Months of cycling through weapons till you landed on one you could somewhat use you realised that you absolutely hated using hand-held weapons.

Carmilla sighed, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Okay, but it's not like I have spare angelic steel laying around. We'll have to wait till I can melt more down," She mused, almost seeming excited about crafting you your own weapon. But her words only confused you more.

"But, we do, don't we?" You furrowed your brows.

"The steel in the armory is meant for prepaid orders-"

"I was talking about my old helmet," You hoped that didn't sound too rude, interupting her. "I mean, the entire thing is is technically angelic. I don't know if it's steel exactly, but I know for a fact it's just as solid!" Now you were the one musing.

Like mother like daughter, almost.

"We could certainly try…" The two of you shared a look.

"Like… Right now?" You prodded almost mischeviously.

Tired as she was, Carmilla couldn't help but falter and smile, your enthusiasm almost contagious.

"Well, we can have a look."

After that it was only a matter of days. Carmilla was far more invested in your new project than you had expected, and even Clara and Odette had briefly joined in, if only to get a sneak peak at the workings behind an exorcists helmet. For the briefest of moments, with all four of you crowded around a table with tidy plans sprawled all over its surface, it almost felt like you were a family. Which, did prompt a stray thought in your head.

After gently pulling the threads of angelic steel from the rivets in the helmet's horns, you couldn't help but bundle them to your chest. They weren't exactly big, nothing compared to the horns of a full fledged exorcist, but they were still something.

So, while your mo-… Carmilla was busy melting down the odd, almost obsidian material of your old helmet in preparation of your new shoes, you were busy tinkering away with your own little side project. Of course, it was hard to explain the various little burns marks littered across your palms that had started appearing, but that didn't deter you one bit.

In fact, during this time, you found yourself shyly approaching the taller of Carmilla's other daughters, Odette.

One thing about her that confused you was the fact that her horns were fake, merely attatched to the band that held her hair up. But right now, that was exactly what you needed.

It was a sweet sight, honestly, at least to Carmilla.

You were huddled against Odette, listening with rapt attention as she explained something to you, finger brushing against what was most likely some sort've plan.

With a smile, Carmilla got back to work.

At the end of it all, you were left with a pair of shoes similar to the overlord's. Pointed and shiny. Sharp and deadly, yet oddly comfortable. The only key difference was the colour - Forged from the scrapped glass of your old helmet, the shoes were jet black inlaid with threads of silver, trailing all the way up the ballet ribbons.

And with your shoes, a matching set of your own horns. Odette seemed proud at the sight of you with small, obsidian horns branching from your head, unable to stand still as you clutched your new weapons to your chest gleefully.

There was a massive learning curve to your new weapons, but at least you weren't bored around the house anymore. Most of your time over the next month had been dedicated to learning how to move around in your new shoes, building both the strength and balance so you could walk, let alone run. So many bruises had been blemished into your skin, but in the end you were able to walk almost as easily as Carmilla did.

(Of course, the demoness had way more experience under her belt, but you were still doing pretty damn well.)

And during that time, the bond between you, Clara and Odette had only grown. Sure, they were only around as much as their mother, but after donning your horns, it seemed whatever barrier that had been built between you and the sisters had been torn down. Seeing as the two could also walk en pointe like their mother, many a helpful tip had been shared from them which served to get you walking faster.

It was endearing as it was funny to watch.

But, being couped up inside all day everyday was starting to wear you down, which was certainly starting to show with the way your pep had slowed down significantly.

With a heavy heart, Carmilla finally unleashed you on the world outside, accompanied by Clara and Odette.

In reality, you were just tailing behind the sisters on one of their usual deliveries. This way you could stretch your legs and practice on terrain other than the smooth floors of your home, which, while it was more difficult, was learnt within no time.

As dreary as the place looked, there were certainly sights to see around ever different corner. You'd found yourself tempted to wander off every five minutes or so, especially when you passed by a rather bright looking… hotel? The entire vibe seemed friendly and inviting, unlike the rest of Hell, but you really didn't fancy getting lost, so sticking close by Clara and Odette was the most sane option in the moment.

Or, at least that was the plan.

Really, with your head on a swivel trying to grasp every sight and sound (which you regretted not a moment later) you'd lost sight of the sisters and found yourself completely by your lonesome.

Which… Fuck.

That wasn't the most ideal position, especially when you really couldn't do more than walk in your new shoes, but they couldn't have gotten far, right?

You were wrong. Turning either corners of the street yielded no Clara or Odette, which only made your heart sink further into your stomach because you really didn't fancy getting cornered in an alley.

Backtracking, you tried your hardest to think. Perhaps, if you could find your way back to the hotel, someone there could help you? It was wishful thinking, because this was Hell after all, but the aura was so different compared to the rest of the ring of wrath that maybe, just this once, luck would be on your side.

But of course, since this was you, luck was mercilessly right out of your reach. Not a moment later, a rambunctious howl pierced the air and a group - a pack? Of hellhounds started approaching you. Which, y'know, wasn't good, especially with the way their ears were pinned back and grins plastered across their faces.

Oh shit.

You started speed walking away, or your best attempt at it, in what you hoped was the direction of the hotel. Down in the streets without either of your guides, it all seemed like one continuous labarynth of red, LEDs and very questionable stores. And, as it turned out, lots of dead ends that you could easily get cornered in.

With the blood thrumming in your ears, heart pumping in your chest loud enough that it shook your head and just the general sense of 'oh shit I am so fucked', you really didn't pay attention to whatever the hounds were spouting off about. Lots of snapping of teeth and snarls, some crude gestures that made your gut twist anxiously and your feathers rustle nervously.

(You were seriously considering using a shoe as a knife. It wasn't like it was impossible with how sharp they were.)

At least, that was your train of thought. Until a resounding bang pretty much deafended you, echoing a chorus of ringing in your ears as the middlemost hound collapsed, head exploding with the force of the bullet that lodged itself firmly within the back of his disintegrated skull.

With dramatic timing, the others peered over their shoulders, only to be met with the towering, thoroughly pissed off form of Carmilla Carmine.

The barrel of her rifle was tinted with holy silver, but she seemed perfectly happy and prepared to behead them with a well placed kick. Whichever worked, you knew Carmilla prioritised your safety over the method of execution in the end. And in the end, the alley was scattered with various corpses in various states of limb loss, and you were carefully toted away in the arms of Carmilla.

She was furious. Probably. Maybe. You couldn't really tell. her face was completely stoney, and you were still awful when it came to identifying emotions. You assumed most of the anger had been taken out on the unsuspecting assholes that had cornered you. And for some reason, that only made you more anxious.

Not being able to tell what she was thinking was off. Back in Heaven, you could tell when Lute was pissed off, or proud, or indifferent, or whatever other emotion she was feeling at the time because she didn't really give two shits about what the recruits thought of her. And at least that way you could prepare on how to react. If she was angry, you knew to stay out of her way. If she looked indifferent, you knew you had to work harder in training. If she was proud, well, also best to stay out of her way so you didn't ruin her mood.

You whimpered and huddled a little closer. Carmilla clutched you a little tighter.

"Are you alright?" She finally asked once you were close enough to home that is was mostly just her employees around the two of you.

"Please don't be mad at Clara or Odette. It was my fault for getting lost," Was what you went with anyway. Carmilla shushed you gently.

"I'm not mad, I just want to know if you're okay."

Which completely threw you off. But you just went with it.

"M'fine. You got there before they could do anything," Those words seem to put her mind at ease, her shoulders visibly untensing as she exhaled a long sigh.

She hugged you, closer and tighter to her chest as if scared you were about to disappear from her hold. And you could only return the gesture, sinking into her comforting warmth. It made you feel small, almost like a little nestling on her first trip out of the nursery, but you found that you didn't really give two shits in the moment because you felt completely, wholly safe right where you were.

"Mi peque, mi querida, mi corazón," She uttered softly, "never wander from your siblings again."

Despite the firm tone, you could feel the care dripping from her words. You sighed and relaxed.

"Of course, mother."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[pedge-page]

i love your preggo wife drabbles soo much!!! could you write one where joel takes care of reader with her morning sickness? 🫶🏻

Joel dealing with Preggo Reader: Morning Sickness

Notes: Idk why I keep making reader so mean but he's such a trooper! I'm also no pregnancy expert obviously so plz take my minimal effort in research with a grain of salt.

Warnings: mean reader, language, vomitting, morning sickness

- - - -

"I hate your penis."

Joel rolls his eyes. It's only the 11th time you've said it today while being hunched over the toilet, with Joel caringly hovering over you, holding your hair out of the way as you take a deep breath and hurl the breakfast he made you this morning.

"I hate—"

"I know, sweet pea. Just breathe."

You nod in an almost drunken state. He knows its because you've got no energy in you to really fight him, with the baby giving you all the first batch of hell in the life long journey of headaches in child bearing.

He rubs over your spin, caressing the shivers raking over your body so you can focus on not dying right now.

"I hate your toes. I hate your shampoo. I hate your fingernails. I hate your toast.  I hate—"

"Ah huh..."

At first he was pretty upset and angered by how much you loath him, but at some point he's tuned it out and just holds and shushes you. While you pout your disdain for the man, you don't oppose his touch.

For now.

"Doin' so good, baby. It's only temporary, baby's just making sure you're a tough momma—"

"Shut the fuck up and get me some water."

Joel stands, his knees reminding him of his less than youthful age, before running downstairs and grabbing a bottle.

You were both a little surprised that all the morning sickness you were warned about hadn't really given either of you trouble in your first trimester. It came with a surprise by the middle of your second, and comes and goes on a daily basis. Today is honestly not so bad: it's your attitude shift that really gives him whiplash.

By the time he gets back up, you're already meandering out of the bathroom like a lost soul with puffy, sleep deprived eyes, and over to the bed, slowly crawling over the mattress, muttering "too tall". You feel his hand supportively on your back, but you snap "fuck off" and get in the bed yourself. He goes to tuck you in with the sheet, but again your hand slaps his away and you close your eyes into darkness.

You can still feel his annoying presence. "What!" You yell, eyes shooting open to see the bottle dangling from his hand. You snatch it without a thank you and gulp.

Joel's just got his hands on his hips, staring at you.

"Kern I hEp ouu, Hondah?" You gurgle through your water sloshing in your mouth.

He just chuckles to himself. "You're cute like this."

You swallow. "I'll fuck you the fuck up."

He laughs even harder, seemingly unserious in your threats. To him, you looked even smaller than before, despite the obvious roundness growing in your tum tum. You seemed like some small puppy finding her growl, or toddler pointing her finger trying to be intimidating but unaware of how badly you're failing.

"So amusing? Why dont you make yourself useful and rub my feet," you demand.

"You need to eat food, baby girl."

"BaBy GiRl" you mock with puppet hand mouth. "NAG nag NAG. I Don't WANT food. I want my FOOT. In your HAND. before I put it up your ASS."

Joel can tolerate the baby cock-blocking him for a few weeks and the endless assult of your words, but he puts his foot down when your basic needs arent being met. "I need you to eat food. You need energy. Baby needs energy."

"Fine! Crackers, you crackhead. Then—" and you thrust your leg in the hair and wiggle your foot in his face so he gets the picture.

"Okay okay!" And he walks out the bedroom.

Joel spends a record 4 minutes downstairs hurriedly putting together a fancy array of cracker options, from Saltines, to Townhouse, to Ritz. He also pops a few cubes of diced ham in his mouth and then holds a few in his hand to snack on later since he too had to abandon breakfast to service you.

By the time you're conplaining "it's been hours!" He's trotting up the stairs, you wiggle your bum so you sit upright in bed, hand over gurgling belly as he brings the tray to you.

Just as youre about to feast on these dry ass cardboard squares, your nose twitches. You see Joel chewing something in his grasp, popping one cube of pale meat quickly into his mouth, and it takes all of 2 seconds for the smell to travel to your brain before you're throwing the tray on the ground, crackers spilling all over the carpet and b lining to the bathroom again to throw up.

As he hears your dramatic gasps and hurls, Joel pulls out his little note pad he's been documenting your pregnancy so far. He writes "no ham" in the lines , right under "hates my penis", before tossing the paper on the bed and stroking your hair lovingly again as you empty your entire organs in the toilet.

By the time you finish, you've got snot and tears running down your face. "but I LOVED HAAAMMMMM" You screech.

It's true. You used to wrap a thick spread of cold butter on a slice of cheap deli ham and eatnit like a cannoli— something he thought was a weird aquired taste BEFORE he even got you pregnant.

Joel grabs a tissue and plants it firmly in your face, and you squeeze your eyes tight and blow right into his palm like a little snot nosed trumpet. He rubs his fingers in your nostrils to get all the boogers out before tossing it and helping you up to your feet again.

All the while you're bawling "l-l-loved—my hh-ham—n cheese" with gross babbling as he tucks you back in the duvet. You were fine with giving up other aversions like tomatoes, pizza crust, and yogurt. Even sex (occasionally). But your beloved ham is one baby step too far.

"Your—"sniffle— "big—"hiccup—"ugly—"choke—"WORM —" cough—"DID THIS TO MEEE," you accuse his crotch and wail into the air.

Then you hiccup very loudly and go quiet entirely.

You look around with curious eyes, fresh tears suddenly unbothering you at the moment.

"Mmmmmmmn crackers," you moan. "Gimme that one," and you point to the mess on the floor.

"What one?"

"That one!"

He bends down and picks up a piece.

But you shake your head. "No that one."

"No." "No the other." "No."

"Which one!" He shouts, unable to contain the lace of frustration.

"The one I'm pointing to, stupid!"

He finally picks up one hes pointed to 3 times already and you clap your hands.

You snatch it out of his grasp, pull a hair off its curved cracked edge before munching on it happily.

He looks at with uncertainty on his face.

You swallow the dry mushed bits and hum contently. "Mmm. Salty."

-

Not even 12 hours later  you two are getting ready for bed, and you mood has completely changed. Still sick, but instead of being unable to stand Joel's entire existence, you praise it.

"Joel, honey? Can you please prop my feet up Under this pillow. I'm sorry. I just can't seem to reach it myself."

"Baby? I'm a little thirsty. Can you get me some water?"

"Im so sorry, Joel. I just can't stomach this food, I know you put so much effort into it. Ugh! I loved this, I really did! I don't know what's wrong with me."

You rub over the discomfort in your slightly swollen tummy and try to be a brave girl and fight the tears, as Joel's been so attentive to your needs, aches, cries and cravings, only to hurl them back up.

You sniffle and look up to him.

He's a bit tense, almost in a fight or flight stance with fear behind his eyes.

"W-whats wrong, Joel?" you ask with a honey song voice.

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

- - - -

Permanent taglist :

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[2n1ghts]

❝let me take care of you, baby.❞ ❥︎ collegebf!eren x reader

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

synopsis: it was nearing finals, and you avoided your boyfriend— eren—like the plague. and boy, was he was worried for you. your normally cheerful demeanor dwindled to something snarky, something avoidant. all you did nowadays was study till your brain rotted, and it made you a bitter person. he was waiting for the day you'd collapse, and the moment you did, it was worse than he expected. good thing he was there to take care of you. to pamper you because you were his baby.

*contains suggestive content!!

key: e/c -> eye color

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

hey y'all!! 💌

again, not sure how the whole tumblr thing works. i'm experimenting and trying out writing for fun, so please be kind. i was pretty out of it when i wrote this, so ignore any typos or inconsistencies. also, bear with our y/n. she's crafted this way for a reason.

it's my first time writing a short fic/drabble, and i did this as more of an experiment. i welcome feedback but please be kind with your words. i am just learning and finding out what works for me.

anyways, hope you enjoy lovelies!

best,

~ nene

The past few weeks had been a living hell.

Not because of the finals nearing round the corner, or because of the two hours of sleep you were getting per night; not because of the crude professors who made it their life mission to assign a million projects when the quarter was about to end; not because of your parents who did not give two shits about your mental health.

It was the distance you were maintaining with Eren that made it the hardest.

He was worried for you. You could tell by the way his eyebrows would furrow when you would decline yet another plea to relax, or the way his eyes conceringly flitted to your scrunched posture whenever you'd cuss at yourself, or the way he would gently, tenderly... remove your hands that tended to roughly rake through your hair when anxious.

Your breaking point was nearing, and he was holding himself back from embracing you right then and there. He was not one to interfere, but he wanted to take care of you, to ease the burden off your shoulders and reassure you that your studying would amount to great achievements. But he didn't know how to reach you. You were so caught up in your bubble of self-sabotage and pressure that you shut the rest of the world out, including him.

But he didn't want to be "the rest of the world." He would wallow in your bubble too, only if you'd let him in.

"Fucking deratives will be the end of me," he heard you seethe from your position on his gaming chair. The both of you were currently cooped up in his room, with him scrolling through TikTok and occasionally glancing at you while you revised and revised till your eyes were sore.

Eren's roommate flew out, which left the place to himself. He lured you here stating it would be better to study at his place with "no distractions" compared to your apartment with Hitch, who was quite the gossip and hinderance.

As you highlighted yet another section, you felt his eyes raking down your figure.

You were engulfed in his oversized grey hoodie, wearing nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and matching underwear underneath. Your hair was messily thrown up in a bun, a few strands tickling your forehead here and there, to which you frustratedly blew from your periphery. Lilac crescents embedded themselves into your under-eyes, followed with bags entailing sleep deprivation. One bare leg was propped up as you rested your chin on your knee and swung the other absentmindedly.

If you didn't stop studying now, you'd collapse from exhaustion. Three hours had passed by nonstop. You hadn't even drank water.

"Y/n," he called out gently.

You ignored him, but he knew you heard him because of that cute forehead scrunch you just did.

"Y/n," he called, this time a bit louder. Once again, that damn scrunch, but no verbal acknowledgement.

"Y/n!" he tried for the third time. You furrowed your eyebrows, scowling. Your slender finger pressed into your plump lips, a gesture made to silence him.

Leaving his position on the bed, he strided over to you. He got onto his knees and gently took ahold of your meandering hands. The callus of his fingers felt textured against your knuckles.

"Why are you ignoring me, babe?"

"I'm not ignoring you," you replied, trying to refocus your attention on your migraine-inducing Calculus textbook. He tried not to flinch at you shutting him out for the nth time this week.

It hurt him whenever you tried drowning him out like he was a petty distraction.

Because he wasn't to be discarded. He was your boyfriend, and he promised to always be there for you, so why wouldn't you just confide in him?

"I called for you three times, Y/n," he stated calmly. Letting go of one of your hands, he gently drew circles on your knee with the pad of his thumb, hoping it'd soothe your nerves. Goosebumps littered your skin at the gesture.

"Can't you see I'm studying, Ren? I can't talk right now." Overstimulated and tired, you weren't in the mood to converse. In fact, you weren't in the mood to do anything. All you wanted to do was collapse onto your sheets and fall into a hundred-year slumber, but unfortunately, finals exist to give you enough of a reality check.

"You are working so hard, so take a break, please," he pleaded yet again.

He'd beg if it meant you'd prioritize your health. He cared more about you than his ego. That's why he always rebounded with a gentle demeanor, even if you were rude and snarky. He knew your brash attitude wasn't your fault. You just didn't function well under stress.

The unfiltered truth was, you weren't used to the princess treatment Eren offered. As a child, you had gotten used to your parents' nagging. Sleepless nights became routine if it meant you'd score straight A's. It had been like this all throughout high school.

Until you met Eren.

He prioritized you first, always, and taught you to do the same. It was sort of... a culture shock to you, a difficult adjustment. You needed time getting accustomed to this novel way of thinking, and luckily Eren was understanding.

Couldn't say your self-sabotage wasn't eating away at him, though.

"And you need to take a break from badgering me. I'm perfectly fine," you snarked. Your eyes broke contact with his, gaze landing once again on the textbook to your left.

Angling your chair, you turned your body away from him, trying to focus on the task at hand. You couldn't bear to look at him because you knew he was right. If you gave in, you would stop studying. If you stopped studying, you'd catastrophically fail, which could not happen.

With a frustrated sigh, Eren swiftly snagged your textbook and threw it behind him. It collided with the mattress with a large 'thud.' You gasped as he grabbed the edge of your chair, turning it towards him.

"You're not getting that textbook until you eat and drink something," he asserted, a layer of seriousness washing over his green eyes.

"What the hell, Eren? Give it back!" You shrieked.

"You heard the conditions."

"Eren, this is serious. I don't have time to play games right now. Please... give it back."

"Who said I'm playing games, Y/n? The only reason I'm doing this is because you're being negligent towards yourself."

"Okay, well that's my problem. Who are you to interfere?" You countered.

"Hey, I'm not trying to be your mom or anything. As your boyfriend, I care about you. It's just a glass of water and a snack, Y/n. Do it for yourself. You deserve a break."

You started panicking. An uneasy feeling sprawled up your stomach as your hands got clammy. "No! You don't understand."

"Then enlighten me, babe. I'm right here."

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the chair, trying not to cringe at the weird noise emitted from the leather upon loss of contact with your skin. You reached forward to grab your textbook off the mattress, but Eren was faster. He took ahold of your wrist and lowered it.

You grunted in frustration. "I—I need to study, Ren. Badly. My career and future depend on it. These are hard subjects. I need hours and hours of studying to ace these exams. You don't get it."

He doesn't reply, continuing to look at you sternly and not budging. Your nerves were skyrocketing. What was his deal? This wasn't the time to be testing your patience. Plus, if he really cared, he'd understand your desperation.

"Okay, whatever sick fun you're trying to derive out of this isn't cool," you deadpanned.

You tried pulling your wrist out of his grip, but he required little to no effort to keep you at bay, simply planting his feet further into the ground when you tried shoving him. Your e/c-eyed stare pierced him like daggers, but his resolve was impenetrable.

God, what a stubborn fuck.

You continued wriggling and squirming to no avail. Your bottom lip began trembling. Liquid pooled at your lashline, threatening to moisten your cheeks with its salty trail.

You broke.

Sniffling, you shoved him repeatedly in the chest. "I hate you. I hate this. I fucking hate college and hate my parents and hate finals and hate this fucked up system that does nothing but capitalize on our stress and hate motherfucking Calculus and professor Ackerman and—"

Moist lips enclosed your own, trapping them tantalizingly. The kiss was brief and sweet. He used it as a way to tranquilize you, gently trapping both of your wrists with his one hand.

"Shh, just let me take care of you, baby," he rasped as he tenderly interlocked his arms under your legs, lifting and placing you on the bed. The mattress felt soft against your spine.

If pamper had a textbook definition, Eren's face would definitely appear in the margin.

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 15

It's here!!! Finally, I am able to finish it! This chapter is a lil messy, I'll admit, and ended up twice as long as intended, but I'm hoping it'll be a good set up for the next chapter, which will feature a lot more Dracula :3 I am posting this a bit sleep deprived, so I apologize if it has several mistakes ;w;

Thank you for waiting, and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Turns out going home had consequences worse than you had anticipated. With time ticking by, and tensions beginning to boil with your step family, you decide to make several impulsive decisions in hopes of working on your deal with Dracula, or at least having something to show for it. Of course, nothing can go right, especially with Death tailing you, now can it?

CW: Physical and verbal abuse mentioned (You are mostly fine, no worries), extreme anxiety and second thoughts, slight face injury (just a bruise), impulsive shopping, mental rambling and overthinking, Death makes an appearance

Word Count: 6575 words!

Tag List: @just-some-water-lillies @blackmeetsworld @khaleesihavilliard @sisterofsin29 @str4wban3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag

If you want to be added, or if I missed someone, please let me know! Likes, reblogs, tags and comments are appreciate 💕

First: Here

Last: Here

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Looking in the mirror shouldn’t have been as harrowing as it felt at the moment.

If you were being honest with yourself, you could care less about appearances. You liked looking nice and all, but you didn’t always have the luxury of looking nice on a hunt when it involved… monster remains ending up splattered all over you.

That… and as you were growing older, you looked a lot more like your mother.

Not just in looks, but…

You hated how your eyes looked so sunken in. How there was an unnatural paleness to you. Like you were ill.

It certainly made you feel sick. You hated being reminded how your mother looked that last year before she passed.

Of course, it didn’t help that you had a massive bruise on your left cheek. Or how you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in… what, weeks? More so than normal anyway.

That, and you genuinely haven’t felt well since you came back home around 3 weeks ago.

“Ugh….” You groaned out, leaning closer to the mirror as your head throbbed.

At least you weren’t beaten bloody and bruised like you had been before… everything.

It had nearly been a month since you returned. As much as you would have liked to believe things would have gotten better after coming back home, that was nothing more than a pipe dream.

“Just who do you think you are, huh? Who the hell lets you stay here? Do you think it’s funny to pull that kinda shit? Huh?”

Jason hadn’t been happy at your return. Though you had a feeling he was more mad about you staying away and still being alive.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, you dense fuck. I let you stay here out of the goodness of my heart, and you not only attack us, but pull a disappearing act?”

Eyes narrowing at yourself in the mirror, your reflection scowled with you as you remembered parts of Jason’s explosive reaction to you coming home that day.

Your step brothers and step father had been doing something involving recon for a mission of some sort. So they said, anyway. Not that they gave you much of an explanation anytime they left anywhere, unless it was somewhere fun.

Then they were more than happy to brag about going somewhere, and you weren’t invited.

Regardless, you didn’t hear much about where they were, but you got to hear all about how bad of a person you were for leaving like that. For having the gall to defend yourself.

The reflection of you in the mirror scowled even further, before wincing when you felt a twinge of pain from the bruise on your face.

Annoyance flickered on your features.

After you came home and were discovered by your family, the ‘scolding’ had certainly been one of the worst, but you would argue that wasn’t the worst part of coming back.

”I’ll have you know I could kick you out at any time. You are nothing but a freak. A parasite. At least your mother was worth something compared to you. All you do is sit around and do nothing, wasting our time and resources!”

Jason and your brothers had never been physically violent before. At least, not outside ‘training’, anyway.

Sure, there was the occasional shove, and a shoulder check here and there. Maybe a loose foot finding its way in front of your own…

Jason was practically in your face as he yelled, your back pressed against the wall as he practically cornered you.

“All you do is sit on your ass and run off to god knows where after throwing a fit. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t toss your shit into the streets right now!?”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he interrupted you.

“Shut up!”

Your eyes widened as a fist came at you-

…Only for your body to tense with one of your hands in front of your face as his fist landed a few inches from your head, now in a huge hole in the wall next to where you stood. No doubt you would be fixing that later.

Jason’s face was right next to yours, his eyes dark with a hatred that had your body tense, and your hair stand on end.

“Get out of my sight.”

Ever since that first night back, Jason had gotten scarily close to genuinely hurting you. He, and his oldest son, Mark, had grown increasingly aggressive.

It frightened you. Never had they seemed so irritated.

That was saying a lot, if you were being honest with yourself.

Sure, you feared what they could do to you, to your home. It was a small fear, one you kept a tight lock on. You hadn’t really felt scared of them. Not before they tried to lethally injure you.

Now you felt like a cornered animal half the time, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It felt like it was only a matter of time before things escalated. If something happened to you… You didn’t like to think what would happen afterwards.

The look in their eyes… You couldn’t help but compare it to a monster who was out for blood. A pure hate that made you feel ill just looking at them.

And with their aggression growing… it was looking more and more likely you faced something terrible happening with each passing day.

Not even a week had passed after Jason’s episode before you were shoved down the stairs. You thankfully had caught yourself, but instead of an empty hall at the top of the stairs like you expected, Mark stood watching.

His eyes were just as cold as his father’s. That same, piercing hate deep in his eyes.

“No one wants you here.” Was all he said, before he turned around and left, leaving you awkwardly hanging onto one of the rails.

Since then, Jason and Mark had made a point to let their displeasure known. You were either tossed around, or forced to do extra dirty work around the house. Jason made a point to tell you that he expected ‘more’ from you from now on.

Ignoring the fact you already did most of the house work anyway. Fucker.

Now they both made messes on purpose. Well, more ‘on purpose’ than before.

Kitchen? A wreck almost every night.

Living room? You were now picking up their disgusting clothes and messes.

Entry way? You were cleaning mud that was tracked in every other day. It wasn’t even muddy out front, so you knew they were doing this on purpose elsewhere to piss you off.

At least Seth kept his distance. He wasn’t pleasant, but he at least seemed to dislike outright trying to hurt you more than a shoulder check. If anything, he just told you to clean something or go shopping at inconvenient times.

Maybe toss something on the floor for you to clean up, but even he seemed to find that more bothersome than it was worth.

It still wasn’t great, but it only added to your ever growing stress.

“Things could be worse… I guess.” You mumbled, exhaustion clear on your features as your frown fell back to your neutral look.

You could have Dracula trying to kill you, along with everything else. No doubt that would have possibly either broke you, or had made everything worse. Your face scrunched up at the thought.

Though you winced once again, the bruise near your eye throbbing at the movement.

Jason and the others may not have outright been hitting you with their fists since you got back, but…

Letting out a gasp of surprise at the sudden sharp pain, you felt your body slam into the wall next to you as your body swung back in surprise.

“Oh sorry, did that hurt?” Mark mocked, throwing the bag he had ‘accidentally’ hit you with over his shoulder.

Motherfucker had waited around a corner just to swing a bag of junk at your head. You were lucky it didn’t directly hit your eyes, but…

You could feel your anger bubbling in your chest, and you sighed. At least you still had your sight, even if you worried the cheekbone had been damaged.

Whatever.

Turning the faucet on, you splashed some water on your face, waking you up a little bit as you trekked back to your room

Truth be told, it wasn’t just your step family causing you issues.

You had been spending what free time and energy you had on working on your deal with Dracula.

Something that still was weird to think about.

Entering your room and closing the door behind you with a soft ‘click’, you went over to your desk and sat down. Reaching down to the floor, you pulled out a specific notebook you had hidden under a bunch of random clothes and junk, and opened it.

Inside the notebook was what would be a bunch of gibberish, but was simply a cypher.

You didn’t dare write anything about Dracula somewhere where your step family could find it and read it. A phone was hackable, and just leaving a notebook around without precautions was begging for fate to mess with you and make things worse.

Flipping through the pages, you found your simple ‘To-Do List’.

It was messy, but when you came back home a near wreck, it was as good a place as any to start.

There were several different things written down, such as buying him a modern cell phone. Or building him a computer. Or even showing him some modern libraries.

You hoped he would at least be impressed by the internet, and the many archives it included. Though you were a bit nervous about the internet as well, not really wanting him to see how depraved humanity could be, where it was right out in the open.

Then again… the internet had a front row view on the good things humanity has done too. That, and it’s not like Dracula was unaware of how awful people could be, human or otherwise.

Perhaps you would only show him the internet archive or something. And how to pirate movies and books.

Movies and television were a whole different ball game as well on what to show him. You wondered if he’d like The Addams Family, or The Godfather. Or Psych, or Columbo or something.

Shaking your head, you wrote down a few suggestions to show him later. After you managed to figure out if you could even get internet working at his castle, of course.

You’d have to make a few calls to some people who knew how to keep their mouths shut, no doubt.

Even then, he may not even want it. That was something you had to consider.

“Though, perhaps…” you mumbled out loud as a thought entered your mind.

Perhaps you could just show him all that stuff at your cabin? Test the waters?

A part of you nearly snarled at the idea of anyone finding your humble sanctuary, let alone being allowed in it that wasn’t your late mother.

But you had way more at stake here. You had a deal to hold your end up on. Surely, your little abode was worth the entirety of humanity?

…You would consider it.

Then there was the fact you would probably have to get a phone or internet plan for Dracula.

Good god you had a lot on your plate.

That isn’t even mentioning the calls you had been attempting to make for blood banks for supernatural entities. With how busy they tended to be though, you ended up on hold nearly every attempt you made. No doubt you would have to send some emails and make an in person visit.

Great.

Staring at the list for another few moments, you sighed, putting the book down and putting your head in your hands.

“Fuck, how am I going to do this?”

The hope of the world was quite literally on your shoulders, all depending on your actions going forward. Yet, you had little to nothing to go forward with.

Not like you could just order a phone or computer parts. Even if it was illegal, your mail and packages ended up getting opened more often than not before you had a chance to even see them.

Jason would always smugly remark it was for ‘the family’s safety’, in case someone was trying to ‘get rid of the family.’

That was a load of shit, of course.

You knew it, Jason knew it, Mark and Seth knew it.

But there was nothing you could do. Even if you had a legal case of them fucking with your mail, if you made a fuss, you simply would get kicked out and lose your family home.

At least they stopped messing with your packages half of the time when you bought adult toys to embarrass them out of spite.

That was the first time they ever left you alone for a month. Definitely some of the most peaceful weeks of your life.

Anyway-

Rubbing your face, you gave your cheeks a small slap to wake yourself up, and sat back up in your chair.

Picking the book back up, you looked over it all once again, before adjusting some of your notes.

You would have to go buy a lot of this stuff in person yourself, and hide it in your car. Buying a new phone and computer parts would only make your step family incredibly suspicious.

Or annoying.

In fact, if you did manage to spin a perfect lie to get them off your back, you wouldn’t be surprised if your parts either went ‘missing’, or ended up ‘accidentally’ damaged.

Or someone in the family suspiciously gets a new PC while the parts you bought are missing.

Even though you had money in your own bank account, it wasn’t like you were rich. You had expected a lot of your family’s money to go to you before… well…

Not that it mattered.

You still had a means of making money from odd jobs and the hunts you were allowed to do before your step family called dibs, or when they didn’t want to do the icky jobs.

It just… wasn’t as much as you would like. But hey, you didn’t have the luxury of lamenting your expenses now. Lives were potentially at stake if you didn’t do this.

“So much for buying some new clothes… guess I’ll have to patch up some of my torn ones with some older clothe if I can…”

Oh well.

Another thing that was an issue was time.

You had more or less been on lockdown since coming back. Sure, you had a job or two for some minor stuff, but then you were stuck right back here.

With Jason and Mark, and Seth to a degree, being a lot more aggressive… You’ve hardly had a chance to even leave the house for something as small as grocery shopping without Jason getting on your ass about it.

He must have been serious when he got angry at you for disappearing. You still didn’t understand why, given how they talk about wanting you gone so much. Maybe they just hated the fact you would eventually come back.

Bah.

Scratching your head, you let out another sigh.

You were running out of time.

Dracula may have been patient so far, at least you hoped. However, that didn’t mean he would wait forever, especially when you mentioned a month as the time it may take to return.

Around a week remained, and the clock was ticking. Time was not on your side.

Neither was anything else, but if anything, you knew how to adapt under pressure.

“Okay… Everyone is out today. I can at least get a phone. Maybe even a few parts for a computer…”

There were a few places in town for parts. You had at least done research on places where you could buy these things earlier this month in a manic episode.

After that, you had to figure out a time to leave again for a few days. No doubt you’d get shit for it, but hey, at least you weren’t actively bleeding this time.

“I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.” You mumbled to yourself, running a hand over your eyes with a groan. Even if you felt like you were a bag full of anxiety, you could at least try to hype yourself up.

With a deep breath, you closed the journal, and hid it once more.

Steeling your resolve, you stood up and grabbed your car keys, before heading out your bedroom door.

Leaving your home wasn’t hard, but it still sent some anxiety spiking through your heart as you locked the door behind you. Nor was driving down to town any less harrowing.

However, driving up to the giant building of a tech store at least put you at ease. As much as you hated crowds, it was somewhat relieving here.

If you by some rare chance saw your family or someone you knew, you’d at least have a crowd. You were less likely to be treated poorly in front of people who your family tried so dearly to put a mask on for.

Of course, you still were on edge. It was hard not to be in general outside of your cabin or family home. Your whip felt heavy under your jacket as you parked and walked through the building, both a reassurance, and a weight that had your hands twitching.

Crowds may be good in some ways, but for monsters, both man and supernatural, it was an opportunity.

You just hope no one would seek such an opportunity today.

Pushing through the turbulent emotions stirring inside you, you quickly made your way to the center of the store.

It wasn’t hard to buy a phone, though you did have a few things to consider.

Size, model, and brand.

The decision wasn’t difficult in the long run, but the image of Dracula with glasses and a teeny phone in his massive hands made a smile form on your face.

With the new phone in a bag to take home for later, you continued shopping. At least getting a phone was the easy part. You could buy a temporary cheap plan and number for it in store at checkout.

Somehow Dracula’s castle had cell service, if you remembered correctly. If the phone plan didn’t work out, you could at least show him some things, right?

It was enough to tide you over until you could make some calls about giving Dracula of all people an actual decent phone plan without all the strings of an identity in modern society. That was something that actually wouldn’t be too difficult. You hoped.

Regardless, it was computer parts that had you dreading being here.

There were different parts and different brands to consider, and in the end, Dracula might not even care about it.

You at least hoped he would like the parts to look at if he was uninterested in having a computer. At the end of the day, you could just use your laptop to show him things if need be.

At the very least, you knew Dracula liked to make things, if your family’s old journals were anything to go by. You liked to think he’d like to tinker with the parts for his own gain.

“What a headache… Could be wasting time and money for nothing…”

Maybe you should only grab a few things? And then if he isn’t interested, you could just give the parts to him to study?

You shook your head to yourself as you entered an aisle with a few of the parts you needed behind a wall of glass, and eyed your options.

Perhaps you should start with a cpu? Or perhaps some memory? Or rather-

“You sure like to take your time, Belmont.”

In an instant, the temperature of the building dropped severely, and you felt your hair stand on end.

Faster than a human could blink, you had your whip in your hand, and faced your adversary-

Only to freeze when you saw Death hovering next to you, uncomfortably close.

You blinked, and hesitantly lowered your whip.

“Um… hi?”

The skeletal cloaked figure tilted its head, its boney fingers thrumming on the handle of its scythe. All the while, your head was swimming as you tried not to panic.

Dracula may have been your family’s primary enemy, but Death, the entity, was never far behind.

“Hmm… You are certainly different from most of your kin before you.”

You decided to take that as a compliment.

Forcing your anxiety back down your throat, you managed to speak once more.

“Um… No offense, but why are you here? Is everything alright?” You asked hesitantly, yet tried to remain polite. Hold back any fear and aggression. You could do this.

Death was severely hated in your family, if a few journals were anything to go by. It wouldn’t hurt to remain courteous. At least you hoped.

You no longer were in Dracula’s castle, after all. Who’s to say Death might try and find a loophole and kill you here outside your family home and his master’s abode? Be done with this stupid peace treaty of sorts you had convinced the Lord of Darkness to try out?

Even then, you imagine he could probably get away with it, being Dracula’s second in command. In Death’s eyes, in the end, would it really be so bad if the Belmont dies? Get you out of the way?

It was Death after all. Even if the entity was punished, what was Dracula gonna do? Kill him?

You tried not to let those thoughts fester as the cold, blue fires in Death’s eye sockets bore into you.

It took a lot not to shudder in fear.

Death though, seemed not to notice, or care if you felt intimidated or not.

“I am here to see if you intend to return to my master, or if you are simply hiding away like a dog with its tail between its legs.”

That last bit alone caused you to scowl, and you had to stomp down the irritation that threatened to bubble in your gut.

“First of all, rude. Second of all, yes, I do intend to return. That's why I am out today, actually.”

You gestured with a nod of your head to the locked display that was in front of you, and Death’s ghostly eyes followed.

“I figured as a gift of good will, I could get some modern stuff for him here. I know you probably have a distaste for humans, but I can promise you and Dracula himself that the technological advancements made by them in today’s modern age may come across as intriguing.”

Wincing a bit at how that sounded, you rubbed your neck and ignored the twinge of pain.

“Not to sound vain about it, of course. Humanity has really flourished the past century or so with all sorts of advancements. Not just technology. I figured your Master would be interested, at least in a few areas to see if humanity’s advancements have reached his own.”

Death let out what you assumed was a hum, and just as you were about to turn and ask what the deity thought, a voice nearly had you jumping out of your boots.

“Hi there, can I help you?”

Spinning around, you nearly relaxed when you saw it was someone who worked here, though you quickly stammered.

“O-Oh, I uh-”

You spun around, panic running through your veins. You did not need regular people freaking out over Death itself being in a tech store-

Only to find no one there. Death was gone.

The room seemed to warm up again, almost to the point it was uncomfortably hot. Had Death’s presence really sapped that much heat from you and everything around you?

Swallowing your nerves, you spun back around to speak to the person who asked if you needed help. It wasn’t hard to put a mask back in place on your face, though you swore your heart never stopped hammering in your chest as you pointed out a few items you were considering.

That, and you tried to ignore how the employee eyed you, almost concerned.

Right. Bruise on your face. Skittish reactions. Great.

At least they seemed happy to unlock the glass display for you, asking you something about if you were building a computer. You could only mumble a response with a shaky smile, throwing out some explanation or another.

In truth, you could barely think as they brought the few items you had pointed to towards a register. How could you act at ease, knowing Death could quite literally be around any corner, watching you?

Could you even go home? It’s not like it would be hard to find your place of residence in this day and age, but you wondered if Death knew how to do so by regular means.

Which made the idea of going home and being followed… nerve wracking.

Sure, your place was warded to hell and back with ancient spells and hunting artifacts so no evil could step foot on your property, but…

That didn’t mean you were safe the moment you took a step outside, and you didn’t exactly like the idea of being shot at by a gun or a bow or something while taking out the trash, thank you very much.

Even then… were you comfortable with Dracula even knowing your home address in general?

You were in a fog of your own thoughts as you paid for the equipment you bought, only briefly being brought out of it when you noticed the price after everything was scanned.

No doubt you’d be feeling the loss of money in your bank account later. Ouch.

Thankfully, it was also easy to get a quick plan for the phone you bought as well, along with a phone number. Nothing fancy or long lasting, of course. No need to if Dracula was uninterested, or if was genuinely interested to the point of needing a decent one.

As the nice employee set it up, a part of you hoped this would help you and Dracula have a means of communication.

After all, you doubted the post office would deliver a letter to a giant castle in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

When they handed you the phone and receipt, you gave the employee a tired smile, before gathering your things and walking out the door.

The whole way to your car, you were looking back behind you, still wary of being watched. You hated this.

It was one thing to be followed by some asshole or a monster with a bone to pick, but Death itself?

Hopefully you wouldn’t be laughed at if you puked from how nervous you were.

After setting your stuff in your car and climbing in behind the wheel, you sat there for a moment as your engine roared to life.

It seems despite your warning that you’d need a month, it seems at three weeks you didn’t have any time left to spare if Death was making in person inquiries.

Gripping the steering wheel, you glanced up at the rearview mirror, and your neck cracked from how fast you turned to look back at it after looking away.

In it was Death, floating ominously, near empty eye sockets looking at you from behind your vehicle.

You turned around quickly, and no one was there.

Eyes narrowing, you looked back, and nothing was in your back seat. Nothing behind your car. Nothing in the area besides you.

“Oh, very funny. Didn’t you ever learn not to scare a hunter? Especially one who can actually cause harm? Not everyone’s fight or flight is flight you know.” You snarked out under your breath.

A part of you wondered if Death found this hilarious or not, scaring you. Did the being not have a care about scaring someone who could actually kill them?

Then again… if you were ‘alive’ for thousands of years, you wondered if you too would stop giving a shit and started doing dumb stuff like that for fun.

That, or Death was purposely trying to push your buttons so he could have an excuse to tattle to Dracula you ‘attacked first’. You hoped that wasn’t the case.

Shaking your head, you looked around your car one last time, hoping you weren’t going crazy, before focusing on heading home.

You’d give Death some credit, at least.

Scaring you like that helped jump start something in your brain where you no longer felt frozen in place. Even if Death damn near gave you a heart attack in the process.

The drive home was uneventful, but you felt as if your heart rate never truly rested after your mini adventure out shopping.

How could it? How on earth do you handle such circumstances? It was like trying to swallow claws as your anxiety tried climbing its way up your throat.

“You know, I can’t help but feel my life would be a lot simpler if I was born in a different family…” you mumbled, face scrunching up.

Maybe you’d be bumbling around in college by now, meeting some guy or girl who caught your fancy. Worrying about exams and dates, not whether or not offending one man could kill you and the entirety of the human race.

Whatever. No point mourning something you never had, right?

Your thoughts were a messy buzz as you pulled up onto your property, though it probably could be seen as humorous how quickly those thoughts came to a stop.

Slumping into your seat, you felt a new kind of anxiety and irritation bubble up in your chest.

“Oh, you are fucking kidding me.” You groaned out, spotting familiar vehicles in the driveway up to your house.

Why were they back so soon? Why?

At this point, your luck was a sick joke, you think. That, or just your life in general.

It looked as if everyone was back home, earlier than they should be, you might add.

Internally, you debated your options.

One, you could go in and get yelled at for disappearing without ‘a good reason’, eventually having to give some excuse as to why you were gone.

Or two…

Your pulse picked up as you thought about it. You weren’t exactly planning on leaving for Dracula’s castle today… But…

Strumming your fingers against your steering wheel, you bit your lip as you weighed the pros and cons.

On one hand, going today might get Death off your back. Though you hoped that at least seeing you shopping might have helped.

On the other hand…

You’d have to meet Dracula again, for the first time after being so injured… And no doubt you’d later have to deal with Jason and the others getting pissed at you again.

Then again… that was just normal at this point, just extra aggression. Maybe you should get out for a bit?

After all… You hated to admit how you were growing concerned with how more… open they were getting with their ‘grievances’. How long would it be before you were one wrong fall down the stairs, or turning a corner too quick?

Your face throbbed at the memory. The bruise on your face was just from a bag of junk. How long until it was a convenient bag of bricks being tossed instead?

Plus… You needed a break, you just worried about the repercussions. But…

You were tired. So so so tired.

There was an exhaustion that was deep in your bones.

Your head constantly ached, even more so after the bruise. You were always exhausted like you were on hunts often, no doubt from your lack of sleep.

And you constantly felt off while here, which you chalked up to always being on edge.

No doubt having to watch your back like prey in your own home for weeks on end was taking its toll with how you were constantly bouncing between feeling exhaustion and feeling sick.

You may be a Belmont, but the human body could only take so much stress before it began shutting down. Even you had your limits.

“Am I actually considering this…?” you mumbled, your brain in a fog as you tried to come to a decision.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have anything at the cabin, either… You had a few clothes there, and some non-perishable food….

With a groan, you put your head in your hands, and ran them down your face. You winced as your face ached at the action.

It was then like a switch was flipped, feeling the bruise again. You didn’t feel like dealing with this shit, and possibly having another incident while already injured.

At least… Dracula wouldn’t attack you. Hopefully. You could heal. Maybe.

Not that you expected him to take care of you while you were there. You could do that yourself.

…It just would be nice to be in a place where you could.

Hah… How many times was it going to be a shock for you each time Dracula, your family’s enemy, was the safer option?

With a sigh, you cracked your neck, and steeled yourself.

Looks like it was time to pay Dracula another visit.

—

The drive wasn’t as long as you expected.

Perhaps it was the good music that happened to be playing, or maybe it was your nerves. Who’s to say.

Pulling into the small dirt road leading up to your small cabin though had you rightfully nervous.

Was it safe? Did any monsters wander from Dracula’s castle and ransack your home?

Eyes naturally narrowing in suspicion as your vehicle came to a stop, you couldn’t help but start to think about it.

Technically speaking… You never said Dracula or his minions couldn’t destroy shit. Just to leave humans alone, for the most part. At least, what your working ‘treaty’ was. Perhaps you should discuss and iron out the details while you were here…

Should you have made a contract? Did supernatural beings such as Dracula even have to honor those?

Not like you could hire a lawyer to draft a contract for Dracula anyways… Not enough ones in the supernatural communities, let alone one that would involve themselves with Dracula without fearing for their lives.

No doubt there would be a few conflicts of interest, and you couldn’t just hire a human one anyway…

Blinking, you shook your head, before doing a quick glance over your property.

“C’mon… Don’t get distracted now.” You mumbled, climbing out of your car.

You did a quick look over the immediate property around the cabin, checking to see if anything had changed.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Even the inside of your small sanctuary had remained seemingly untouched.

Was it a miracle, or had Dracula purposely mentioned not to have this place harmed?

Or maybe he didn’t say anything at all? Did he even know this place existed, besides what you had mentioned? Did he keep his mouth shut to avoid anyone going looking to begin with?

After all, you had mentioned having property nearby, right? You couldn’t exactly remember…

Question after question filtered through your mind, and you groaned. You’d get nowhere if you just sat here and made guesses.

The only way to get answers and move forward, would be to actually visit the vampire.

So why did you want to put it off now?

Your nerves were like electricity in your gut, and you could only wring your hands together as you stood stuck in the small living room. It was almost like you were paralyzed, unable to do anything besides take a few steps here or there while your brain went haywire.

It wasn’t like you could go back. Jason would give you too much shit for it, and Mark and Seth would follow his lead.

Jason was a ticking time bomb at this point, you feared. You could defend yourself and all, but at what point was it too much?

With a groan, you ran a hand through your hair.

“God… I feel like a deer in headlights…”

Taking a breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Why was this so hard? Just go to the castle, and talk with him, and offer some of the stuff you had. At least you could offer the phone and bring the computer stuff later…

After a few more moments of heavy debate inside your mind, you came to a decision, before swiftly turning around and heading to the bedroom.

You’d… visit Dracula tomorrow.

Was it an excuse to wait? Yes.

However, you figured you’d be in a much better mindset after getting some rest after being away from your family home. You just hoped Dracula wouldn’t mind waiting one more day, even if you technically hadn’t even hit the deadline you set yet…

You could rest, eat, shower, and mentally prepare yourself the next day. Maybe you would look less pathetic for Dracula at least, compared to last time, and how you currently felt.

Although, you’d admit, you were a bit uneasy sleeping so close to the castle.

It was silly, really. You literally had slept inside said castle. By all means, you were in the snake pit while critically injured. Yet…

You felt safer there than here. Something you never thought you would ever think about your little sanctuary.

Here, you didn’t have Dracula’s direct protection.

Just how easy would it be for something to attack you if a monster sensed you? All it took was one disgruntled monster to figure out you were here…

By all means, it could even be spun that it wasn’t even one of Dracula’s minions, since it would be outside his castle. It was a grey area if the monsters outside the castle walls were under his direct control, you felt.

It wasn’t even your own safety you were mostly worried about.

Was it selfish or odd to be more worried about the cabin and the land? It was one of the last things you had of your mom untainted…

Well, if anything else, you’d destroy anything that tried to destroy this place.

That was your thought as you climbed in bed that night, trying to ease your nerves for tomorrow.

…Which is why when several flashes of lightning and thunder happened one right after the other, you nearly fell out of your bed.

Rain began to pelt your window hard, and the wind picked up a bit. You could even hear the trees shake outside from the weather as some branches brushed against your cabin’s roof.

“Was that from…?”

Dracula’s castle wasn’t far, not at all. A small walk away around a lake. It sounded as if everything was coming from the direction of his castle.

After a moment of listening to some more rolling thunder, you decided to close your curtains, and try to relax to the sound of the storm. If what you suspected was true, and Dracula was annoyed or upset… you didn’t exactly want to intrude and possibly worsen his mood.

As you warily drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder just what had made Dracula so upset.

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi! I'm relatively new on here and wanted to ask for a gn reader x Naib and Ganji (separately) comforting the reader after seeing them with eye bags from excessive crying and absolutely dead inside look. My apologies if it's too much, saw that the requests are open and decided to shoot my shot🙏🏻 Thank you very much either way!

WIPE YOUR TEARS, DOLL.

( mercenary & batter ) + gn!reader

˚୨🌌୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ reader has a “dead” look + feels undeserving of love , implied that reader may be a bit depressed , l/n = last name , probably a tad bit ooc , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

You can’t remember the last time you’ve cried so much that it could fill this entire manor and there still wouldn’t be enough room.

You’d blame it on the recent… position you’ve found yourself in, but can’t recall if it’s because of where you’re stuck or if you’ve just been like this ever since.

꒰wc꒱ 1.1k

✦— THE MERCENARY ; NAIB SUBEDAR

Naib is initially suspicious, taking note of the (more or so) deceased-looking appearance you’ve been wearing recently, alongside the ever-growing eye bags that only continue to darken as the nights go on. It’s a strange sight indeed, but one he quickly dismisses as a “lack of sleep” type thing.

↳ it doesn’t help that you fall right into the trope as well. Naib watches as you stumble and trip over your feet during games, zone out during pre-match, and just so happens to find your sleeping form anywhere he looks. He lets out a sigh, (gently) picks up your limp body, and brings you back to his humble abode. The Mercenary is so preoccupied with getting you back to his room that he fails to notice your light sniffling and the dried tears near the corners of your eyes.

Okay, this has been going on for far too long now and isn’t something that he can let slide by anymore. So that’s how it started, hand in hand, cause he knew that something was amidst. Truthfully, maybe being blunt wasn’t the exact way to go, but he needed to coax you out somehow. What he didn’t expect (which you can’t exactly blame him for) was for you to break out into tears the moment you tried to speak about it.

↳ he has to admit, you completely caught him off guard the moment you threw yourself into his arms, tears staining his green jacket. He takes a second to adjust, but the moment he does, he’s raking his fingers through your hair and rocking the two of you back and forth. [just the way his mother used to when he would wake up from nightmares.]

When you eventually calm down, his hands find solace on your shoulders, pleading for you to enlighten him on just how the hell you’ve been feeling lately. He takes a thumb to your face to wipe away the stray tears while you clean the snot from your nose. He won’t tell you, but he’s slightly hurt that you never came to talk to him about this, especially as he sees that it’s affecting you badly.

You cave in his hands as you explain to him that your nights are only filled with staining your pillows with your tears. The little sleep you get comes from your tiredness knocking you out. It’s devastating to hear your pain and suffering, and all Naib can do is listen and hold your hand.

The Mercenary can only sigh before bringing you in for a hug once more, placing soft, gentle kisses on the top of your head. He doesn’t want to cry in front of you, but you feel a few cold droplets of water hit your shoulder. His first words are an incoherent mess before you can finally make out something.

“[name] [l/n], I am your lover. You are my everything. Please, the next time you feel this way know that you are more than capable of coming to me for help.”

↳ He loves you so much that seeing you in this mental state puts him in pain as well. You’re the first to break down his walls in ages, the last one being his friends from the war. The Mercenary can’t risk losing you too.

From that moment forward, you find yourself coming to Naib’s dorm room more often than not, accompanied by your teary eyes and sleep-deprived body. He holds you close as he gently massages the top of your head, making sure you fall asleep first.

Slowly but surely, he watches as your old self emerges all over again. The dark bags under your eyes dissipate while your energy returns to your once-withered body. The Mercenary keeps a close eye on you from there on out, making sure that you never fall down that rabbit hole again. But, if you were to spiral out once more, know that Naib will do everything in his power to break you free.

✦— THE BATTER ; GANJI GUPTA

Ganji holds a slight bit of overprotectiveness towards you, especially when the two of you make it official. That’s why he beats himself over the fact that he didn’t put more thought into just why you might have those dark circles hidden underneath your eyes.

               ↳ Your eyes are constantly watery. Your nose, almost nonstop running. You look as if you're about to sob out a tsunami at this rate. You say it’s just your allergies. The pollen outside plus Victor's dog make for a deadly concoction against your senses. At first, his brain reasons with himself, stating that it's a valid reason. But he’s been with you for so long that his heart argues against itself and before you know it, he catches you red-handed.

Your dorm room door is unlocked, a bad habit of yours that Ganji may or may not have scolded you over before. Something about safety and privacy and blah blah blah. The door will be your downfall, but one that will reveal a much-needed truth.

↳ He finds your face stuffed into your pillow, tear stains decorating your cheeks with a light pink hue. You’ve tired yourself and fell asleep ages ago, sleep you so desperately needed. The Batter decides to make room for himself on the bed as well, resting your head on his lap. That way, the two of you can talk this out when you wake up.

You wake up in his lap, unaware of the truth he’s just uncovered. As the Batter rubs his thumb over your stained cheeks, you instantly realize that, oh, he knows now. You can’t stop the small tears that start to flow once again, but Ganji is quick to help wipe them away, planting a small kiss on your cheek.

“Love, you need to reach out for help when this kind of stuff happens, especially if it only continues. Please, don’t feel as if you’d only be a burden. Anyone who feels or thinks that can go kick it.”

There are nights when the loneliness of your bed becomes too much too bare, and you make the trek to seek out comfort from your already asleep boyfriend. Little do you know, he’s already awake and ready for you with a cup of sleepy tea. [Thank you, Emily.] The two of you fall asleep together, hand in hand.

Your next matches are wins as he watches the spark return to your eyes once more. Still, he keeps a few packets of that tea near his nightstand. That way, if you ever needed to fall back asleep, all it would take is one tea bag.

note: BYE this got rushed a bit in Ganji’s part I’m so sorry, I wanted to do him justice but my ass needed to pass tr out RN…anyways enjoy fishies 🫵😚

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[matchadobo]

👋 for the 3rd dialogue of hurt to comfort, can you write it like when y/n is insecure about themself and they don't feel comfortable enough to sleep 🔞 with Kid (IYKYK 😉). i really like how you write hurt to comfort 💙 thank you, cha!

wc: 1793

dialogue: "show me all the parts of you that you don't love, so i know where to begin."

warning/s: semi-nsfw (bc there's no p in v)🔞, lotsa foreplay, established bf/gf, virgin reader, fem reader, soft but k1nky kidd ;)

you and kidd have been together for a while now but you still hadn't open up the sex talk with him. but that's because of two things: you're a virgin and you're insecure about it. he had never really pressured you into doing it. if anything, he's been nothing but so respectful about it.

but when make outs get too heated and you two badly needed to destress that one time, it all boiled down to you on the verge of having a panic attack.

"hey, it's alright." despite his usually coarse approach, his tone was gentle as he held your face in his hands. "i kinda went too far. my bad, bonnie. we can stop 'ere, yeah?" he ruffled your hair to apologize.

moments ago, he subconsciously clipped your bra off and then your breasts came loose. you then consequently squealed and pulled away.

"n-no, you shouldn't have to." you said through shaky breaths, disheveled locks, and swollen lips. "i'm sorry, kidd. you probably think you're the unluckiest man in the world with a girlfriend like this." you covered your face, fighting off your tears as you tried getting off his lap. but he fixed you in place and yanked your hands off your face so he could look at you properly.

"hey. oi look at me." kidd started. "piss off with that crap. we talked about this. we're fuckin' if you wanna. and you know, i like it this way. somethin' new, right? 's like a challenge and i'm no loser." he poked your chin playfully. you know he was just trying to lighten up the mood but you already feel so bad depriving him of this.

"no but, what about you? you're... hard." you two looked over his boner. you were sat on his lap so you could see it very well.

"what do you wanna do then?" kidd's tone was mischevious and you already knew why. you were silent. kidd held up his laugh but gave up immediately. "...i'm just kiddin'. we can do somethin-"

"no!"

"now you're just confusin' the hell out of me."

"i'm insecure about how i look. i-i think i won't look good when i'm all... naked before you. i just don't think i'd make you feel good because you won't like how my body will looks." you looked away, trying to find the right words because you felt really small and embarrassed talking about this.

kidd blankly stared at you before bursting into laughter. he couldn't breathe really, it's all so fucking crazy to him all he could do was laugh.

"is that all?" he asks, holding your hand after and placing it above his boner. "cuz this is what you do to me, bonnie. if you would just know how i think about you, how i fuckin' fantasize each night about you, it's criminal." he watched how shaky your eyes got, not taking his eyes off of you as he palmed himself with your hand simultaneous with his words.

"k-kidd i..."

"and i've been waitin', for a damn long time for you to say it. to say you want it. you want to do it with me." he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his firm grip remained in yours as he continued with his filthy act using your hand.

"everytime i look at you with your cute little skirts, when you wear clothes around me that show a little too much skin, or when you become a little too needy during kisses." he started giving you kisses up to your neck, precarious on where your quickening pulse resides.

"hell even when you wear these ragged shirts, i lust over you." kidd pulled away and chuckled to himself, he soon met your eyes with a dark haze on them. "and you're worried about shit like that? insecure about what? i don't fuckin' get it. did you forget why i had a crush on you?"

you blinked at him, cheeks so hot you had to fan yourself. "i-i don't know i gained some weight lately, w-would you still like that?" you kept your head down, fumbling with the hem of your shirt. "i don't love it, okay? you might be getting annoyed but the truth is, i'm really scared of how you'll react. i don't want to disappoint you."

kidd sighed. running his fingers through his hair to compose himself. he's not annoyed at you or anything. he's frustrated that you still feel like this even if he sees you as a fucking goddess. he doesn't wanna force you onto it, he wants to do it with you on your own volition. he's fine taking care of it, he's got a pretty wild imagination.

but it doesn't sit right with kidd that you feel like shit when he can do something perfectly well about it. it just rides on you if you'll push through.

"show it to me." kidd blurted out, leaning back with his arms. "show me all the parts of you that you don't love, so i know where to begin."

you were a bit confused but your heart wasn't. it's as if kidd always knows what to say to make you feel this way.

"hm? cmon, i don't like waitin'." kidd raised a brow to see you still frozen. "or do you want me to do it for you?"

"e-eh? what- hey!" kidd wasted no time carrying you bridal style out of his lap and headed to the other side of his room where a wall mirror resides. he finally placed you down for you to stand up.

"just gimme a squeal if you wanna stop, otherwise i'd keep going." kidd stood behind you, reaching over to hold the hem of your shirt on both hands before raising it. when he exposed your torso you immediately pulled his arm back down.

"k-kidd?! what the fuck?!"

"i wanna do somethin' about that insecurity of yours, trust me on this. do you trust me?"

you looked at him with shaky eyes, but he just smiled at you. knowing you'd agree. so you took a deep breath and trusted him, like you always had.

kidd had always shown you the world. the amount of hesitance you had matched the daringness he had. it was perfect really, you prevent him from getting too carried away and he prevents you from missing out on having fun. so whatever he had planned right now, it would be scary for you but kidd wouldn't do anything that'd hurt you.

kidd began pulling your shirt over your head, tossing your shirt somewhere in his room afterward. you felt cold and small. his hands warmed you up as he roamed the expanse of your shoulders, sweeping off your hair to the other side so he could plant kisses on one side your neck.

"tell me when to stop." he said in assurance, sparing you one glance in the mirror before sucking on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

his hands soon explored the surface of your stomach, playfully squeezing the flesh on it before crawling up precariously on your breasts. he gave you a look at the mirror, gauging any discomfort you may have. but you seem to be enjoying it, it's just that you were keeping it in with the way you lean onto him as you melt in his touch and the evident and embarrasing flush of your cheeks.

"do it," you were somewhat eager, as he teased his fingertips on the wire underneath your bra. both of you watching each other on the mirror. kidd grinned, pulling down your bra pads and squeezing onto your mounds.

"this? this makes you insecure? look at yourself, bonnie." he said with one hand playing with your breasts while the other had a firm grip on your hips, tinted fingernails digging on your pelvis. "you're fuckin' beautiful."

you mewled at him, looking up at him as your knees felt like jelly. but kidd wanted you to not look at him, he wants you to look at you. how you're melting as he strips you and makes you look at yourself. he held your jaw and he positioned it so you're staring at yourself in the mirror.

"mm-mm, you've been way too busy lookin' at me, princess. focus on yourself." his firm grip on the expanse of your jaw and neck had your breath constricted while his other hand was busy teasing his fingers on your clothed, sensitive cunt. "look at yourself while i make you feel fuckin' good." he barked out as if almost an order.

you squirmed, feeling overwhelmed with the fact that kidd's got you figured out in the right places. as you look at yourself, you got even more turned on with how he's handling you perfectly well even if it's your first time together.

"i-it does~ it feels so g-good, baby." you mustered out with pants, trying to hold onto both of kidd's arms but your grip was way to weak.

"aye. i want you to see yourself the way i see you. always so damn hot." kidd squeezed onto your bum, biting your earlobe as he maintained eye contact with you by the mirror.

"but let me tell you somethin' because from here on, i might lose control of myself when i take those pretty fuckin' panties off." kidd stopped palming your cunt, and instead returned to rest around your waist. he appears to have a penchant for stroking your stomach. "i already know you're soakin' in there and i know you can feel how hard i am."

you nodded. he was still on his boxers yet it kept poking your back, sliding down your bum. it made you sweat to imagine how big he really is, because you know he is. you've seen the bulge of it when he wears leather, or just his boxers, or when he gets hard. and kidd is a big man, there's no denying how much he strays further away from the average.

"...if you're asking if i want to keep going. i do, baby." you turned your head to the side to look at him, really tell him that you're serious and this is your choice. "i'm sorry this scared me so much, it's fucking ridiculous." you laughed to yourself. "but if it's my first time, i wouldn't want it any other way than to do it with you. i mean, you did all this poetic shit just for me to wake the fuck up or something. so do it, don't hold back. i didn't date a vanilla, did i?"

"aye."

you kinda regret telling him to not hold back and provoke him with that vanilla joke. he took it way too personally and you suffered the consequences.

thank you sm for the request anon! 🌷

this was actually pretty fun to write! i somehow had it right off the bat as soon as i read the request, it just took so long bc of the previous requests that piled up 😭 i think this is very canon of modern kidd to do heheheheh🥵

it's currently new years' eve in ph! happy new year my loves! thank you for the support always 🌷 hope everyone has a great start to the new year 🫶

if you're interested for my 500 follower event, you can check out this post

[bloodlustngore]

Safe space - Vanessa Shelly

Another Vanessa fic? I’m hyper-fixating atm so it’s to be expected.

In the middle of writing a Vanessa x fem!reader smut so for now you can all have another fluff one (with a tiny bit of suggestiveness). Kinda want to get these all out before my hyper-fixation on Vanessa stops but it’s probs not gonna for a while as I’m also replaying Security Breach rn.

Also sorry if this one is shit lol or doesn’t make sense half of these I write sleep deprived.

Summary: Vanessa comes home, stressed. She just wants comfort from Y/n.

This is a Vanessa x fem!reader one-shot :)

God, this might shift and patrol was stressful. Vanessa found out that her father employed another security guard...she was worried and she also had to go meet him, and check up on how he was doing.

Vanessa just wanted to sleep, which was unusual for the blonde, because she rarely could...mostly she just wanted to be at home with her girlfriend, her safe space. She was relieved when she could come home, it was four in the morning and she knew her girlfriend would be asleep.

It had been pouring it down with rain tonight and luckily Y/n convinced Vanessa to wear her long water proof coat. But that still didn't stop her much from getting her hair wet a bit, since she forgot to put the hood up.

Locking the door behind her and getting in her routine habit of checking all the rooms downstairs at home, everything was locked. Vanessa did this because she was scared that something could happen to Y/n...considering Vanessa' father is William Afton, after all. Vanessa knew he could easily use her girlfriend against her. And that's why she was scared to get too close to someone but it was too late now, it had been since she first met Y/n two years ago.

Her father hadn't threatened her with Y/n yet...but it was still a possibility if she didn't do as he asked, anymore.

Vanessa headed upstairs after putting her coat away and took off her shoes, if she didn't Y/n would have her head. Leaving her bag down stairs but she still took her gun with her, in case. Y/n had one to...because she knew what she'd gotten herself into getting close to Vanessa.

The blonde stripped off her cop uniform, and threw in an old t-shirt with lounge shorts. Taking her hair out of the pony tail and into a messy bun instead. She glanced over at Y/n who was fast asleep, as she turned the lamp on at her side of the bed.

Crawling into bed, Vanessa turned off the lamp, cuddling up to her girlfriend and wrapping an arm around her stomach, protectively. Suddenly Y/n stirred awake, turning over to face Vanessa. "Nessa, you're home" she smiled tiredly, her eyes slowly opened.

"I'm glad you're back. I missed you." Y/n' voice was a bit groggily from the fact she's still tired and just woke up. "I missed you too baby, it's been a hell of a night. But we can talk about it in the morning." Vanessa paused as she kissed the tip of Y/n' nose.

"Okay. C'mere" Y/n chuckled, tiredly. Vanessa was already so close to her as it is, until the blonde understood what Y/n was after, she closed the gap between their faces and kissed Y/n' lips. The kiss was soft and full of passion, then Y/n kissed back making it sloppy due to her tiredness.

Vanessa was so tempted to get on top of Y/n but she stayed at the side, kissing her. Knowing that if they started this now, there would be no sleep for either of them for a while. Their kiss continued, breathing heavy, Vanessa made Y/n moan into the kiss slightly when her hand squeezed her inner thigh, prompting the blonde to deepen the kiss with her tongue.

Vanessa pulled away eventually, both women's chests heaving, a strand of saliva connected until they broke apart. "As much as I'd like to continue Y/n, we need to get some rest."

Y/n chuckled "yeah you're right." Pausing to check her phone "fuck me it's four a.m."

Vanessa smirked at her girlfriend "tempting..."

Y/n rolled her eyes "cheeky. But you need rest, babe."

"Fine. Goodnight Y/n. I love you."

"I love you too Nessa" she kissed her softly, wrapping her arms around Y/n once again, feeling happy that she's in the company of her girlfriend, and that she gets to cuddle with her for the rest of the night...or early morning.

[thekristen999]

Fuck It Friday

A day early, but I'm going to be busy tomorrow. I started something new despite my sleep deprived brain sabotaging me.

This is a snippet from my whump fic. Sometimes we have to feed the ID part of our brains. The boys will forgive me.

And for the record, I wrote this before that last Tim interview. :-P

...

“Hey,” Buck said, smacking his arm. “Seriously. You’ve been through hell and back. Maybe cut yourself some slack.”

Eddie looked off in the distance. “Doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“No one faults you for wanting a do-over. If the roles were reversed and I could kiss a loved one more time, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Eddie gripped the armrest even harder. He didn't correct Buck about kissing Kim. He’d let her inside his home. He created the catalyst for Christopher's pain and anger.

Poor decisions didn’t absolve him of the repercussions, regardless of what Father Brian said. Eddie had taken his advice. He’d let go of his barriers and lived in the moment whenever possible, experiencing silly joys.

But wasn't he choosing joy now? Christopher was the biggest source of happiness in his world. This road trip was a step in finding it again.

Despite all his self-reassurances, a voice deep down cast doubt otherwise. Eddie rested his head against the headrest, trying to quiet all the conflicting noise. He tried to do the right thing but always seemed to fall short.

Silence filled the inside of the jeep. Eddie glanced over at Buck, his face obscured by shadows except for the dim illumination from the dashboard. Even in the low light, Eddie noticed his tight expression, the way Buck's fingers gripped the steering wheel, the forced sense of calmness, the heavy frown.

Everything about Buck screamed tension. Sorrow.

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed knowing he was partially to blame. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For—”

A loud bang cut off Eddie’s next words, the jeep jerking forward violently. The seat belt tightened painfully across his chest as the vehicle tail-hooked, swerving wildly Buck struggled with the steering wheel. “Hang on!” But they were going too fast.

As the jeep rounded a sharp bend, its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge. Tires screeching in protest, the jeep plummeted down a steep embankment, tumbling wildly through the air before crashing violently against the rocky ravine. It was like being on a roller coaster from hell. The jeep hit a massive bump, spinning it sideways.

Eddie braced himself for a rollover with the sudden shift in the vehicle's center of gravity. But before he could even shout a warning, a tree loomed fast in their path. ..

tagging a few people who might be interested...

@mellaithwen @homerforsure @tizniz @dangerpronebuddie

@epicbuddieficrecs @exhuastedpigeon @favouritealias

@spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @thelikesofus

@elysynn @renecdote @diazsdimples @hippolotamus

@thebestbooksaround @tulipfromtheinternet @ci5mates